


Star Trek Hunter - Year 3: Kingdom Come

by RobertBruceScott



Series: Star Trek Hunter [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek - Various Authors, Star Trek RPF, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Birds, Civil War, F/F, F/M, Genocide, M/M, Other, Police, Politics, Religious Conflict, Romulans, Sailing, Section 31 (Star Trek), Slavery, Space Battles, The Borg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 148
Words: 148,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobertBruceScott/pseuds/RobertBruceScott
Summary: .The eventful conclusion of the Star Trek Hunter series... Civil strife and terrorism within the Federation, War with the Klingon Empire, and the Return of the Borg.NEW EPS POSTED:Episode 27.5: Klingon forces pay a heavy price to establish a beachhead on the colony of Rising Sun...Episode 27.6: Captain Geordi La Forge and Commander Reginald Barclay have been taken prisoner by the klingons...Episode 27.9: A new captain takes command of the U.S.S. Enterprise and a star is born...Episode 27.15: A Klingon and a Romulan work together to try to save the wounded and starving Geordi and Reg...Episode 27.16: Klingon warriors use ultralight aircraft to take to the skies over Rising Sun and do battle with giant birds...Episode 27.17: Jennifer Hopper goes on a dangerous mission to rescue her romulan lover...Episode 27.18: General Mor'rgoth gets his head handed to him...More grisly Klingon war stuff coming soon...THANK YOU so much for reading!!.
Series: Star Trek Hunter [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1400488
Comments: 29
Kudos: 5





	1. Summary of Years 1 and 2 of Star Trek Hunter

**Star Trek Hunter**

A doctoral dissertation by an obscure professor of Philosophy at Harvard University exposes a flaw at the heart of the Federation – and rocks the mighty UFP to its core. 

These are the stories of the U.S.S. Hunter – a Star Fleet patrol vessel - and its small crew of brilliant misfits who are charged with cleaning up this awful mess…

Original story by Robert Bruce Scott

Disclaimers and series information can be found at the following link: [Star Trek Hunter - Series Background Information](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427671/chapters/46236358)

The Story So Far…

 **Year 1** [Star Trek Hunter - Year 1: The Man Who Broke the Federation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19333762)

Episode 1: Flash Forward  
  
Episode 1 is a single scene taken from Year 3 of Star Trek Hunter. It is identical to Episode 20, Scene 7 (Survival: The Ghost) but told from Justice Irons’ point of view instead of Commander Kenneth Dolphin’s point of view.   
  
_Episode 1 has been moved to the appendix of the Year 1 book. The story now begins with Episode 2.1._

Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope

This is the actual beginning of the Star Trek Hunter timeline. On Lt. Dolphin’s first day on the U.S.S. Hunter he is given command of the ship while the executive staff are involved in a trial – the trial of Governor Emory Ivonovic of the Colony of New Hope. The trial becomes a bloodbath and the executive crew have to be rescued by the Hunter’s Ground Operations Department – but only after the Ground Ops team is rescued by the Hunter’s Flight Operations Department…

Episode 3: Breakfast Serial

A married couple aboard the U.S.S. Challenger become the 8th family to fall victim to a powerful telepathic serial killer. While the U.S.S. Hunter’s crew are enjoying shore leave on Ocean and their ship is undergoing repairs and upgrades at Starbase 11, the Ground Operations Department investigates the serial killer. Things get personal when the Hunter’s crew is targeted by the serial killer…

Episode 4: Run to Earth

The U.S.S. Hunter retreats to Earth to escape the reach of the serial killer, now identified as the “Breakfast Killer #2” or “BK2”. While on the run, the Hunter is attacked by a cardassian war ship and barely escapes. One very popular crew member is lost in this battle.

Episode 5: The Fires of Pon Farr

The U.S.S. Hunter’s Director of Flight Operations, Lt. Dolphin becomes ensnared as a young vulcan officer, Ensign T’Lon goes through a particularly difficult Pon Farr. Finally arrived at Earth, various members of the Hunter’s crew complete assignments around the globe and on the Moon to prepare the Hunter for the hunt to capture the serial killer known as BK2.

Episode 6: Breakfast Killer #2 (BK2)

Investigator Lynhart Shran, a civilian investigator attached to the U.S.S. Hunter has developed the plan to capture the serial killer known as BK2. With help from the powerful telepath Malloriah Uhr and the ongoing Pon Farr involving Lt. Dolphin and Ensign T’Lon, Shran puts his plan in motion, causing chaos on the Deep Space 9 space station.

Episode 7: The Great Mushroom

Justice Minerva Irons and the U.S.S. Hunter are assigned a case involving clairvoyance and intellectual property rights. But things get much more complicated when it turns out the clairvoyance is the result of a giant mushroom… and then there is a civil war among the nausicaans… Meanwhile, former Governor Emory Ivonovic launches Sub Space Radio Ivonovic...

Episode 8: The Bolian Web

The crew of the U.S.S. Hunter have to solve the riddle of a supervirus before it gets loose and decimates the Bolian people. Along the way, they discover who is behind the weaponized virus… the Director of Star Fleet Medical…

Episode 9: The Libarary

The U.S.S. Hunter travels to an amazing ancient secret library… only there to discover they must seek out a far, far more ancient and more secret library. And the fate of all life in the Alpha Quadrant hangs in the balance…

Episode 10: Interview With An Ethicist

The U.S.S. Hunter’s Director of Flight Operations, Dr. Kenny Dolphin, is on a special assignment to appear on a podcast - interviewed by none other than Governor Emory Ivonovic. Meanwhile The U.S.S. Hunter discovers they must find the Federation’s most dangerous enemy and bring them back to the Alpha Quadrant - or all life in the Alpha Quadrant is doomed…

**Year 2**

[Star Trek Hunter - Year 2: The Destroyer of Worlds](http://archiveofourown.org/works/20868920)

Episode 11: Intersections and Reunions

The U.S.S. Hunter returns from romulan space to meet with a romulan spy, then returns to Earth, to learn that Kenny Dolphin has brought Emory Ivonovic out of hiding… only to become a member of the Federation Council…  
And the Director of Section 31 inducts a crewmember of the U.S.S. Hunter into the top secret organization…

Episode 12: Prisoner in the Ice Castle

Justice Minerva Irons is assigned to mediate the succession process to help select the next emperor of the Andorian Empire. One of the competing royal houses starts a fight and it takes Star Fleet to keep it from getting out of control. And there is a hostage rescue…

Episode 13: The 15,000 Cities of Cun Ling

The U.S.S. Hunter stops at the artificial planet, Cun Ling, home to 15,000 fantasy cities, just as the Andorian Civil War is heating up. Members of the crew are taken and tortured by the separatist faction known as Andoria First, leading to a full out assault in the catecombs underneath the City of Trantor…

Episode 14: When Death Comes

The crew of the U.S.S. Hunter are haunted by ghosts from their past. As the hauntings grow more severe, more and more of the crew are incapacitated…

Episode 15: A Stitch in Spacetime

A problem with the new engines causes the U.S.S. Hunter to implode over and over, each time destroying the ship and killing the entire crew. No one can stop this cycle of destruction until Wesley Crusher arrives to save the ship… only to meet Wesley Crusher, who is busy saving the ship…

Episode 16: Slavers

The Orion Slave Syndicate is causing problems at the Federation’s borders and the crew of the U.S.S. Hunter must rescue one of Justice Minerva Irons’ grandchildren from slavery. In the midst of this chaos, the Nausicaan Collective makes another attempt to take over Pillo… But these are only distractions from the true danger to the Federation…

Episode 17: Terms of Surrender

The Romulan Senate has taken the planet Vulcan with help from traitors within Star Fleet. With Vulcan firmly under the control of the romulans, Justice Minerva Irons must negotiate the Terms of the Surrender of Vulcan with representatives from the Republican Senate of New Romulus on Vulcan…

Episode 18: World on Fire

In order to prevent the Imperial Romulan Star Navy from developing a deadly biological weapon, the U.S.S. Hunter and crew travel deep into romulan territory in search of a dying planet where an extinct species had developed this weapon – only to unleash it on themselves and cause their own extinction. In a desperate attempt to deny this bioweapon to the romulans, Justice Minerva Irons orders the planet Gamorlan to be destroyed…

Episode 19: The Ivonovic Commission

While Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic heads a commission to look into Star Fleet’s role in the Fall of Vulcan, the crew of the U.S.S. Hunter is eager to return to romulan space to search for two lost crew members. But neither Star Fleet nor the Federation Tribunal have any intention of allowing this rescue mission…

**Year 3** – Episode list

Episode 20: Survival

Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy

Episode 22: Sacrifice

Episode 23: JAG Wars

Episode 24: A Trillian Problem

Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva

Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun

Episode 27: Sword of Destiny

Episode 28: The Covenant


	2. Episode 20.1 - Survival: How Did Hugh Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The U.S.S. Hunter has returned to romulan space - with a new ally who provides vital information before taking a nap...
> 
>  _Hugh held up his mechanical right hand, index finger extended. A small knife emerged from his index finger. He cut across his left wrist, took a flask and collected about 2 cubic centimeters of thick turquoise fluid from his opened vein._  
>  _If anyone else had slit their wrist in Dr. Tali Shae’s presence, all hell would have broken loose._  
>  _But Tali was already in shock that she was talking calmly to a borg. She took the flask rather numbly and just looked at it..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I just finished Ep. 25 and am getting ready to jump in the borg-soaked ending of this story...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 1: How Did Hugh Know?

20.1  
How Did Hugh Know?

“Subspace sector W.28.theta, cell range 261 through 355.”  
“That is a very specific range… um… Mr. Five?” asked Justice Irons.  
“You can call me Hugh. My actual designation is 3rd of 5, but my friends call me Hugh.”

Of all the things Justice Minerva Irons had never expected, casually interviewing a borg in her office was about at the top of the list. It only made sense that his communication might be somewhat cryptic. Borg drones were famous for communicating everything in their minds all at once all the time. Even if Hugh had been free from the collective for apparently a few decades, spoken communication still must feel like crawling compared to traveling at warp speed.

“I am confused, Hugh, did you…”  
“You need to monitor those frequencies. Before he left, Dr. Carrera modified the animal’s transmitter. When she goes into hibernation, it will send three short bursts. If you catch all three of them, you can triangulate…”  
“Tauk,” said Commander Kenny Dolphin.  
“I’m on it.” Lt. Cmdr. Tauk had already stood up, picked up his cane and turned toward the bridge exit from the captain’s office.  
“How do you know she will go into hibernation?” Irons asked as her 2nd officer limped out of the room.  
“I don’t,” Hugh answered. “I think Dr. Carrera considered it a high probability that you would need to find her and that she might hibernate.”  
“That would be Fleet Admiral Carrera?” Dolphin asked.  
“I have only ever met Commander Carrera. He also provided me the formula to manufacture this…” Hugh held up his mechanical right hand, index finger extended. A small knife emerged from his index finger. He cut across his left wrist, took a flask and collected about 2 cubic centimeters of thick turquoise fluid from his opened vein.   
If anyone else had slit their wrist in Dr. Tali Shae’s presence, all hell would have broken loose.   
But Tali was already in shock that she was talking calmly to a borg. She took the flask rather numbly and just looked at it.  
“That should help you for a few hundred days. It should rebalance your metabolism temporarily. When you need more, wake me.”  
“Wake you?” Tali asked.  
“I will need to reduce power to minimal amounts,” Hugh said. “If you would please provide a recharging station in one of the cargo bays or pretty much anywhere. In your lexicon, there are people looking for me and my power signature is not that difficult to locate.”  
“Why?” asked Irons..  
“So they won’t find me," Hugh replied. "When I am at minimal power, I am very difficult to trace.”  
“Not what I meant,” said Irons. “Why are they looking for you?”  
“Bob taught me to phase," said Hugh. "My former colleagues would very much like to know how to do that. I do not think that is an ability you want them to develop. I could go somewhere else, but then I wouldn’t be here when Dr. Carrera comes looking for me.”

Justice Irons got up from her desk, carefully omitting the grunt and sigh that she had recently begun to afford herself when getting out of a chair in private. She walked to the front corner of her office. “I have always thought this corner is one of the most awkward corners in the ship. I considered building a cabinet here, but I really don’t have anything to store in this office.” She turned toward Hugh.  
Hugh turned and walked over to the corner. His movements were disturbingly robotic until he turned and backed into the corner, rolling his shoulders against the metal wall.

“Cozy,” he said. He produced a chip from a compartment in his right arm. “I would build this myself, but I really need to shut down so that we don’t get noticed. If you would, please…” then leaned his head back against the corner, closed his eye and slumped slightly, becoming silent and motionless. There was the slight whine of tiny whirring servo motors slowing and stopping.  
Commander Dolphin held his hand out. Justice Irons dropped the chip into his hand.  
“I’m not sure why you would want him right there,” said Dolphin. “That would have me completely creeped out every time I look up…”  
“Oh, I want him where I can keep an eye on him,” Irons said.

20.1


	3. Episode 20.2 - Survival: The First Signal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The U.S.S. Hunter's search for their missing 1st and 2nd officers - Commander David Pepper and Lt. Cmdr. Mlady - gets into high gear as Mlady's communicator emits a beacon signal, indicating she has entered hibernation.
> 
>  _“You might be right about Boles,” T’Lon mused as Dolphin obtained a napkin from the replicator and wiped his face. “It will be tough to replace Tauk. But Napoleon has seniority. It will keep the department directors where you need them and however people feel about him, everyone admires his quick mind and ability to improvise. Out here with nothing but enemies and no backup, we’re going to need that...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Part of the growth arc for the brilliant, but not really all that likable Lt. Napoleon Boles.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 2: The First Signal

20.2  
The First Signal

Dr. Tali Shae had appended Dr. Napoleon Boles to her department as the ship’s Epidemiologist more than a year ago, although there was almost never much in the way of epidemiology for him to do. But the U.S.S. Hunter’s crew had benefitted from his presence in many other ways. He had come up with surgeries that had saved Lt. Cmdr. Tauk’s life and Midshipman Tammy Brazil’s breast. While people often avoided Boles because of his caustic humor, there was no one better on the ship for solving practical problems.   
Then there was the body odor. One of the biggest challenges of getting members of several different species to live together in peace - especially on a small, cramped space vessel with no air outside - was aligning the body odors so that everyone, especially the olfactorially gifted bajorans, could live in some modicum of comfort. Having a ship full of hybrids simply randomized this effect. Everyone on the U.S.S. Hunter made an effort - except Boles.

So Tali was surprised when she walked onto the bridge on her way to the captain’s office to find not the Hunter’s first officer, nor its second officer, nor any of the department directors or assistant directors in the captain’s chair.   
“Why are you in command, Boles?” Tali asked.  
“Commander Dolphin’s orders,” Boles answered. “I think he’s punishing me for something…”  
In spite of herself, Tali Shae smiled and her antennae spasmed with mirth. Boles’ dry humor could occasionally also be one of his redeeming qualities.  
“He’s been trying to come up with a reason for me to like him,” Tali said. “Looks like he finally succeeded.”  
Boles made an amused noise. “Well, maybe he can work on me next.”  
“And undo everything he’s been trying so hard to accomplish?” Tali taunted. “As you were, Lieutenant,” she said and headed to the captain’s office. The door opened just as she arrived.  
Justice Minerva Irons’ voice could be heard within: “Come in, Tali.”

Just as Tali stepped off the bridge, 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves, standing watch at the tactical station, said, “There it is - one!”  
“Get me a bearing, Lieutenant,” said Boles.  
“Not much to go on, sir,” said Reeves. “I’m feeding the coordinate range to Winnifreid, but we’re already trending almost to the center of this range.”  
“Mr. Salazaar?” said Boles.  
“I am adjusting our course to the center of the range, sir.” Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar was still making adjustments at the pilot’s console.  
“What about the tracking of the gamma bursts? I don’t want us under one of them or traveling through one of them,” said Boles.  
“Our course puts us well above them, sir,” Salazaar replied.   
“Commander,” said Boles, “We just received the first beep.”  
Commander Kenny Dolphin’s voice came to the bridge over the comm system. “How strong was the signal?”  
Boles turned to face Tolon Reeves - gestured at him.  
“It was a fairly strong signal, Commander,” Lt. Tolon said.   
“Napoleon, keep your eyes peeled,” said Dolphin over the comm system. “If we’re reading it five by five, chances are the romulans heard it too. Let me know the moment you get any hint of their scent - warp trails, sensor ghosts - even a glitch.”  
“Got it, boss,” Boles replied.  
“What was that?” Dolphin asked.  
“I said, Aye, Commander.”  
“Thank you Lieutenant.”

Dr. Tali Shae retreated as quietly as possible into Justice Minerva Irons’ office.

20.2


	4. Episode 20.3 - Survival: Grooming Napoleon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a reason Commander Dolphin is being tough on Napoleon...

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 3: Grooming Napoleon

20.3  
Grooming Napoleon

“Do you think you’re being a bit tough with him?” Lt. T’Lon raised her eyebrows. Cmdr. Dolphin and Lt. Cmdr. Tauk had taken over the engineering conference room and had been, along with at various times, Lt. Moon and Lt. Gamor, exhaustively reviewing the operation of each of the ship’s operations departments. Now it was T’Lon’s turn with ground operations.  
Tauk was coughing quietly and occasionally wiping his mouth. His voice had grown much softer over the past few days. “He has to be. He doesn’t have long to get Boles into shape.”  
“Childhood is over for Napoleon,” Kenny Dolphin said. “I need him to grow up and make some friends.”  
“You want to promote him?” T’Lon was surprised.  
“You have confused want with need,” said Dolphin. “He has way too much potential to leave on the table. I need what he can give to this crew.”  
“Do you really think you can groom him for command?” asked T’Lon.  
“Not if he gets the idea that’s what Kenny is doing,” Tauk observed. He started coughing painfully.   
“Time for your nap,” said Dolphin.  
It wasn’t, but Tauk got up, picked up his cane and made his slow exit anyway.   
T’Lon was unable to keep the concern from her face as she watched the small, sick ferengi moving slowly away from the engineering conference room toward one of the lifts. “He is in a lot of pain.”  
“He is in the final stages,” Dolphin observed. “From what I understand, his immune system is now attacking the organs Dr. Boles installed in his lung to generate new lung tissue. He might be able to survive a few more surgeries, but he is nearing the end and he knows it.”  
“You intend to replace him with Napoleon,” T’Lon observed.  
“When the time comes,” said Dolphin. “I’m sorry, T’Lon. I know it’s been a bit of a grim lottery around here. Some people think I’m grooming Dr. Moon for the job. More think it’s Gaia. Most probably think it’s you and I’ve been letting them think that. Boles won’t learn what I need him to learn if he thinks he’s up for the promotion.”  
“I’ve been a bit worried about you, Kenny. Ever since you took this promotion, you’ve become a little… well, I think the term I’ve heard humans use is, a hardass.”  
Dolphin laughed. “This has to be a first - a human officer chided by a vulcan for being too much of a disciplinarian…”  
T’Lon wasn’t smiling. “I sincerely doubt that.” She put her hand to Kenny’s face. “I know humans. Sometimes better than you know yourselves. You have an illogical tendency to do to others what you are illogically doing to yourselves. I worry about you sometimes, Kenny. Did you see Captain Red while you were on the Milky Way?”  
Dolphin sat back, sighed. “No. She has been given a new command. Not that there’s any deep connection there. I am only one among her many lovers. She keeps a rather large stable.”  
“She likes you,” said T’Lon.  
Dolphin made an amused noise. “I might as well try to catch a river.” He took a drink.  
“Either way, you might at least get wet.”

And the drink came out his nose.  
“You did that deliberately!” he spluttered.

“You might be right about Boles,” T’Lon mused as Dolphin obtained a napkin from the replicator and wiped his face. “It will be tough to replace Tauk. But Napoleon has seniority. It will keep the department directors where you need them and however people feel about him, everyone admires his quick mind and ability to improvise. Out here with nothing but enemies and no backup, we’re going to need that.”  
“I’m not being tough on him to get him ready to be a second officer,” Dolphin replied. “No one needs to like the Chief Operations officer. They just have to obey. Being afraid of them is just as useful as liking them, if not more. Tauk is a total perfectionist, so he fits the role perfectly.”  
T’Lon raised her eyebrows, nodded.   
“I need Boles to be able to win friends and influence people because…”

“You’re grooming him to be a first officer,” T’Lon concluded.

“He’s about as qualified for the position as I am. I’m never going to be Pep. I might as well try to grow up to be seven feet tall. Boles might as well try to grow green antennae mounts and turn his skin brown. But he’s going to become a legendary starship captain someday and the way things are going, Star Fleet is going to need him.”

20.3


	5. Episode 20.4 - Survival: A Woman's Intuition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Romulan Imperial Navy's Supreme Commander (and effectively, Supreme Commander of the empire), Sela, is directing the hunt for the U.S.S. Hunter...
> 
>  _"Even if the ghost is a federation starship, they could claim it is one rogue starship - we don’t even know if it has cloaking technology. It may be using some other sort of camouflage. Humans are tricky that way. They find ways around the rules. The last thing we want to do is hand them everything in the Khitomer Accords and get nothing in return.” Sela put her hand on Centurion Cireeka’s shoulder. “But it was a question well worth asking...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Sela is a godsend of a character for me. I use her a lot. Wesley Crusher will become increasingly important this final year of the U.S.S. Hunter story, as will The Doctor from Voyager and appearing as the brilliant, devious and morally conflicted Director of Section 31, Federation Tribunal Chief Justice Julian Bashir...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 4: A Woman's Intuition

20.4  
A Woman’s Intuition

“No - that’s a Star Fleet signal. I can feel it.” Sela deeply hated humans - particularly their inability to recognize the ancient wisdom and genius of the Romulan people. She hated humanity for leaving her without a mother. But she monitored everything happening on her bridge because she had one thing pure romulans did not have. An instinct - an intuition about humans - a gift from her treacherous, ungrateful human mother.   
The moment she had heard her bridge officers start talking about a signal they had received from the eastern end of the empire, near the confluence of the borders of the Romulan Star Empire with the Dead Zone and the Klingon Empire, Sela had stepped out of her office onto the bridge and demanded details. The signal had a borg technological signature, but was on a subspace channel used almost exclusively by tholians. This mish-mash of technologies confused her officers. To Sela, it screamed humanity loud and clear. It was exactly the type of trick humans would use to confuse romulans and klingons.

“It is a beacon, but it does not carry any information. No coded message,” said Commander Hundeeth.  
“Confirmed,” Centurion Cireeka agreed.  
“That means that beacon is for one person and all the information they need is the fact that it is a borg signature on a tholian frequency coming from romulan space. It has to be that Star Fleet swaeshaeul* that has been sneaking about in our space,” Sela groused.   
“The ghost?” asked Cireeka.  
“I should get angry at you for calling it that, but that is what everyone is calling it,” Sela replied.  
“They have to be using a cloak. We should declare the Federation to be in violation of the Khitomer Accords,” Cireeka said.  
“That would be unwise for a large number of reasons,” Admiral Ekot observed. “The Khitomer Accords establish our border with the Klingon Empire. Declare it void and the klingons would take a number of important worlds and the federation wouldn’t stop them.”  
“The klingons would upgrade their disruptors to be able to fire immediately on decloaking,” Commander Hundeeth added, “and the Federation would have functioning cloaking devices on most of their capital ships within a year…”  
“And it would give the Federation an excuse to close the traffic lane between the empire and Vulcan,” Ekot continued.  
“We aren’t a party to the Gagarin Treaty - they couldn’t stop us from going to Vulcan,” said Commander Cireeka.  
“No,” said Hundeeth, “But they would use it to drive a wedge between the Empire and the Senate of New Romulus on Vulcan.”  
“Which is exactly what they wanted right from the start,” Ekot added. “That may be why they’re sending that ghost into our space to begin with…”

“And we have no evidence the Federation is in violation of the Khitomer Accords,” Sela concluded. “We have a few scant readings of federation warp signatures and the frequencies of the photon torpedoes that destroyed Gamorlan were consistent with federation technology - but that could be fabricated. Even if the ghost is a federation starship, they could claim it is one rogue starship - we don’t even know if it has cloaking technology. It may be using some other sort of camouflage. Humans are tricky that way. They find ways around the rules. The last thing we want to do is hand them everything in the Khitomer Accords and get nothing in return.” Sela put her hand on Centurion Cireeka’s shoulder. “But it was a question well worth asking.”

Sela turned toward Ekot. “Put us on course for that beacon as best you can determine it. Since it did not carry a message, there will probably be another signal for triangulation. Listen for it. Reach out to the Pistris, the Pardus and the Simiae. Get them headed toward it as well. Tell them to keep their sensors highly tuned - I want that ghost.”

_* swaeshaeul (Romulan - baby’s shoe (literally: toe shoe))_

20.4


	6. Episode 20 - Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Introduction to Episode 20 - the opening Episode for Series 3.  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I got the idea of starting chapters with a quote of some sort from Frank S. Herbert's "Dune"  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
  


Episode 20 – Survival

_“The harsh discipline of mercy is a lesson every doctor learns at some point in a career of medicine. That lesson is the harsh discipline by which Star Fleet Temporal Division must abide in every moment, lest we be tempted to play God. Our work as observers and guardians of our own histories requires us to engrain that discipline into every fiber of our souls. The more we learn about the unfathomable chains of consequences, the harder temptation becomes to avoid. I cannot selfishly carve my way through time to save my love at the point of death. But if, three years earlier while on another mission, I were to move a food tray four centimeters to the left, no one would notice and a chain of events would ensue that could prevent her death… In temporal operations, just as in medicine, it is very easy to forget that life is precious precisely because it is ephemeral.”_

 _Dr. Tali Shae –_ _The Ethics of Temporal Mechanics_ _.  
_

Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter)

At-Large Appellate Justice, Captain Minerva Irons  
Chief Executive Officer - Commander Kenneth Dolphin  
Chief Operations Officer - Lt. Commander Tauk

Medical Director - Commander Tali Shae  
Asst. Medical Director - Lt. Jazz Sam Sinder  
Epidemiologist - Lt. Napoleon Boles  
Ensign Chrissiana Trei  
Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Sif  
Emergency Medical Hologram - Dr. Raj  
Tactical Medical Hologram - Dr. Kim  
.  
Director of Flight Operations - Lt. Gaia Gamor  
Asst. Flight Dir. - 2nd Lt. Ethan Phillips  
Navigator Johanna Imex  
Navigator Eli Strahl  
Ensign Chelna Zusa  
Chief Flight Specialist Dewayne Guth (last name rhymes with Booth)  
Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate)  
Flight Specialist Dih Terri  
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar  
.  
Director of Ground Operations - Lt. T’Lon  
Asst. Ground Ops Dir. - 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves  
Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace  
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina)  
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki  
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi  
Ensign Eykirros Jones  
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo  
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment)  
.  
Director of Engineering - Lt. Moon Sun Salek  
Asst. Engineering Dir. - 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui  
Midshipman Tammy Brazil  
Transporter Engineer K'rok  
Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars  
Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas  
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs  
Flight Engineer Tomos  
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon


	7. Episode 20.5 - Survival: Rescue Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Lt. Cmdr. Tauk comes up with a surprising rescue plan to retrieve Pep and Mlady...
> 
>  _Dr. Tali Shae answered. “You have to understand, Dolphin, there is nothing that we can to for Tauk now. The only person who can help him is Mlady. She can adjust his enzymes in ways that we cannot mimick. If you cannot find her, there is no hope for Tauk...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> More character development for all the characters in this scene - including Hunter...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 5: Rescue Planning

20.5  
Rescue Planning

“Okay Lieutenant Commander, this is your meeting, but first, I need to ask, where is everyone?” Commander Kenny Dolphin sat down at the head of the antique teak table in the executive conference room. He had delegated the rescue planning to his 2nd officer, Lt. Cmdr. Tauk.

Dolphin had expected Tauk to involve the entire ground operations department - or at least their officers. Neither the ground operations department nor the flight operations department were represented in this room. Only two other of the U.S.S. Hunter’s crew were present - Dr. Tali Shae and Dr. Napoleon Boles.

“This is a job for two people, Kenny,” said Tauk. “We will need the tactical unit.”  
“Who are you going to assign this to?” Dolphin asked.  
“You,” said Tauk, “And me.”

Dolphin did not object. He deliberately shut the thousands of objections to this idea out of his mind. There was no point discussing them - Tauk had the equivalent of a Ph.D. in game theory. He had no doubt gamed out every potential objection. Dolphin waited for Tauk to explain. But it was Lt. Boles who spoke up first.

“I have provided Tauk some stimulants that can help him through this mission,” said Boles. “They will have a terrible effect on him, but they should get him through the mission.”  
“Will they bring him home?” Dolphin asked.  
Dr. Tali Shae answered. “You have to understand, Dolphin, there is nothing that we can to for Tauk now. The only person who can help him is Mlady. She can adjust his enzymes in ways that we cannot mimick. If you cannot find her, there is no hope for Tauk.”  
“I am concerned about getting her and Pep back home,” Dolphin said.  
“I have done the math, Kenny,” said Tauk. “Even assuming they have not lost any weight, the combined mass of all four of us is within tolerance of the tactical unit for recursive warp..”   
“Why is the captain not at this meeting?” Dolphin asked.  
Dr. Tali Shae got up, retrieved an iced tea from the replicator - handed it to Dolphin. “Because this needs to be your decision. It’s time for you to grow up and make some of the tough calls so Minerva doesn’t have as many to carry around. She has made more than enough tough calls for a lifetime and this is one that will keep you up at night. Be merciful. Let her off the hook for this one.”

For a very long, uncomfortable moment, Kenny Dolphin and Dr. Tali Shae looked into each other’s eyes.

After more than a few heartbeats, Lt. Cmdr. Tauk interrupted by clearing his throat. “Kenny, let Napoleon brief you. He and I developed this idea together. Talking has become… painful for me.”   
Dolphin realized he could hear the pained wheezing of the ferengi’s breath - now assisted by a forced breather.  
Tauk looked at Lt. Boles, then closed his eyes and laid his head back into the headrest on his chair.  
“This plan is all about probabilities,” said Boles. “You can rely on Tauk’s numbers. I cross checked as much of his math as I could comprehend. First, we have to assume we are going to be found and there is a high probability we will be caught. There is no way the romulans failed to notice federation warp signatures after this ship has ventured twice deep into their territory. And there is no way they failed to notice federation munitions signatures after we used every photon torpedo this ship was carrying to destroy a planet deep inside romulan space - probably killing several thousand romulans in the process. And we have to assume they have intercepted the first beacon signal and will correctly interpret the next two. So the question is what do we do when they find us? They’re going to want us really, really badly.”  
Dolphin looked around the room, only to find the half-bolian epidemiologist, the andorian medical director and the ferengi 2nd officer just looking back at him. He sighed. “We need two plans. The tactical unit goes on the rescue and the rest of the ship deals with the romulans. But it is so counter-intuitive. We hand over the entire crew just to rescue two officers?”  
Tauk nodded slowly, his eyes still closed. “So we need a plan for the rest of the crew to deal with the romulans.”  
Dolphin rapped his knuckles against the table. “I am adding another person to this meeting. Someone you should have included in your planning.”  
Dr. Tali Shae held her hands up. “We need to keep this plan small for now. People talk.”  
“My call,” Dolphin replied. “Hunter? Would you join us please?”  
The elderly looking ship’s holographic avatar appeared, standing at the end of the table where he usually stood during presentations. “How can I assist you?”  
“Take a seat, please. We need your thoughts. We need to plan against several possibilities involving the romulans and you know more about the capabilities of this ship than anyone. Do you have some counter measures for boarding parties?”  
Hunter walked around the table, appearing slightly confused. He slowly drew out a chair next to Lt. Cmdr. Tauk and sat down as if he were unfamiliar with the sensation.   
Dolphin smiled. “It’s high time you had a seat at this table, Hunter. I assume you are up to speed with our discussion?”

“What you probably do not know,” Hunter said, “because it has never come up - I actually come in two flavors.” A second version of Hunter appeared, this one in a simple black jumpsuit. “I usually remain on the tactical unit and I have never manifested because I never needed to,” said Hunter Tactical, pulling up a seat next to his usual incarnation. Both Hunters spoke in unison, but creating only the sound of one Hunter speaking: “We are one and the same until the tactical unit is launched.” Suddenly they were speaking, but clearly with two voices. “When the tactical unit is separated, we become separate entities and then reintegrate and become one again…” They spoke with one voice again: “...when the tactical unit is reconnected to the platform.”

Hunter Tactical spoke: “It has always taken artificial intelligence to bring the tactical unit into recursive warp just the same as the entire ship. So when you and Tauk are on the rescue mission, I will be there with you.” The black clad version of Hunter vanished.

“Anana Lynarr…” said Dr. Boles.  
Hunter, Dolphin and Tali Shae just looked at him.  
“Good idea,” Tauk said quietly, not opening his eyes.  
“Hunter,” Boles asked, “Can you remove Anana from the crew roster and all official records - and is there a place on board you can hide her in case we get boarded?”  
“Why Lynarr?” Dolphin asked.  
“I should easily be able to create a false bulkhead for her to use as a hiding place,” Hunter said. “I have already deleted the records.”  
“Hunter, do the same for Hugh Mann… um… that is 3rd of 5…” said Dolphin.  
“Lynarr has Trantor counter-terrorism training, she’s bolian and not Star Fleet,” said Boles. “Romulans know a lot about Star Fleet tactics. Lynarr might have some tricks up her sleeve they aren’t aware of. Now we have four people to work against the romulans if they board and get to the rest of us - Hunter, Lynarr, Hugh and Dr. Raj. I will get them together for some backup planning as our last line of defense.”  
“We need several layers of planning to keep it from coming to that,” Dolphin said.

“We need to plan the rescue mission as well,” said Tauk.  
  


20.5


	8. Episode 20.6 - Survival: Dr. Prometheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Meanwhile in another part of the spacetime continuum, Wesley Crusher is teaching the Doctor how to phase - how to travel through spacetime at will.
> 
>  _“Not exactly,” Crusher replied... "Once you are able to stay in one place as long as you want to and have gained precision control over your timing - which may take you a few decades - meet me here five minutes from now.”_  
>  _“Is this the kind of tortured use of verb tenses I can look forward to from now on?” the Doctor asked. “You time travelers should be arrested just for the damage you’re doing to the English language...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I've been having a lot of fun at the Doctor's expense. And also at Wesley's expense. These stories will come together in the final episodes.. I hope.. I haven't written that part yet. I'm just now starting Episode 26.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 6: Dr. Prometheus

20.6  
Dr. Prometheus

“You left me here!!! I’ve been here for nearly three years!!” The Doctor was outraged – and at the same time overwhelmed with joy to see Old Man Crusher again. They were standing on a dark, cold rock of a planet dimly lit by a distant star that remained forever in the middle of the sky, providing almost no warmth.

“And yet I’ve only been gone about 15 minutes,” the elderly looking Crusher responded, wiping his massive beard. “I just popped in to my favorite klingon outpost about 40,400 years ago for a raktajino. Best place to bump into myself for an update. Did you do what I told you to do?”  
“It took nearly a year for me to learn how to phase – it was torment!” The Doctor’s brow was furrowed like layers of paint on a Van Gogh masterpiece. He seemed little changed by the passage of three years - not his uniform nor his expressions. Just the beginning of a deep change in his eyes.  
Old Man Crusher smiled grimly. “Sorry Doc, but you’re in for a whole lot more of that. That is the lesson immortality has to teach you. The universe is boring. And considering what you are learning now – to move freely through spacetime – there is every possibility that you may live to be several times the age of this universe.”  
The Doctor rattled on and on, hardly paying attention to what Wesley Crusher was telling him: “No matter where I went, I kept ending up back here. I would jump somewhere – anywhere – and the next jump would always bring me right back here. I would try just staying somewhere – anywhere – then bang! Right back on this barren excuse for a rock! Now I know how Prometheus felt. I was tempted to teach some primitive race of simians how to use fire just so I could deserve being chained to this damn rock!!! I was wondering when the eagle was going to show up to peck out my liver just so I could have some company!”  
Crusher was laughing raucously, holding onto his staff.  
“This isn’t funny Mr. Crusher! This is a horrible thing to do to a sentient being! Why did you do this to me??”  
“Survival training, Doctor,” Crusher replied. “Tell me, do you really care about the future of humanity? Or are you willing to just let my species die out thousands of years before our greatest potential is even possible?”  
“I know, I know...” the Doctor said, calming down. “You told me. Gamma Gun Galaxy. The Hulk. The Borg. I do want to help. But how does being chained to a rock for three years help me do that?”  
“Think of it as basic training, Doc,” said Crusher. “Tell me what the advantage of this place is.”  
“It’s the most boring hellhole in the universe,” the Doctor answered immediately.  
“Precisely. There is a grand total of one planet, one star and zero asteroids in this star system. And this star is in the middle of nowhere - it was ejected from its galaxy - that one,” Wesley pointed at a small cloud of stars that were the only other object in the sky - they were only visible certain times of the year - “more than a billion years ago. This is the most boring place I could possibly find. No life, no valuable minerals, very little warmth, almost no atmosphere, no water, nowhere near any shipping lanes. And, serendipitously, that entire galaxy is dead - nothing has ever lived there. Not even bacteria. This is home base.”  
“I don’t get it,” said the Doctor.  
“This is your escape hatch - our escape hatch, actually. You are now conditioned that if you have a stray thought or if you’re in danger, just click your heels three time together and say, ‘There’s no place like home,’ and bing! Here you are, right where no one will be looking for you. No one but me and our other team members.”  
“I don’t actually have to click my heels together, do I?” the Doctor asked, furrowing his brow.  
“No, but it would be really entertaining…” Crusher mused. “What was the longest time you could stay in one place and time?”  
“Three days, almost,” the Doctor replied. “But on average, about two hours.”  
Old Man Crusher stood up straight, raised his eyebrows. “I’m impressed. You learn quickly. Took me nearly a decade to achieve that level of control.” He touched the Doctor’s emitter with the tip of his staff. “Either way, you should now be able to come to this place about this time at will. Emergency home base.”

“So, does this mean I’m… free?” the Doctor asked.  
“Not exactly,” Crusher replied. “You can go, but it will be quite some time before you can go wherever you want. Until then, you should regularly return here just to make sure you have it programmed in as an involuntary reflex. Believe me, you will need a safe place to retreat to and there is nowhere in all of space and time that is safer. Once you are able to stay in one place as long as you want to and have gained precision control over your timing - which may take you a few decades - meet me here five minutes from now.”  
“Is this the kind of tortured use of verb tenses I can look forward to from now on?” the Doctor asked. “You time travelers should be arrested just for the damage you’re doing to the English language. What makes you think I’m going to show up five minutes from now?”  
“You’re welcome to wait around and see,” Crusher answered. “Unless you’re already too bored to be bothered. I told you, the universe is a boring place. But when you come back, there’s something important that needs to be done and it will probably be somewhat interesting.”

“Interesting? Interesting??? We’re talking about bringing the borg back to the Alpha Quadrant! It’s going to be terrifying!!”

“Exactly!” enthused Old Man Crusher. He let his staff lean against his chest and rubbed his hands together and cackled briefly with glee. “See you in five minutes - well.. four minutes, thirty…”

And with a wink, he vanished.

20.6


	9. Episode 20.7 - Survival: Blue Morning, Blue Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Commander Dolphin confronts Lt. Napoleon Boles about his body odor. Boles works with Dr. Jazz Sam Sinder - a bajoran - to solve the problem and learns about Dr. Jazz's history with the Bajoran Resistance.
> 
>  _“Napoleon, you are the most creative person on this boat,” Dolphin interrupted with some exasperation. “You are an expert biologist and an expert chemist and you have access to expert chemists – notably Dr. Tolon and Dr. Trei. You have earned a reputation as a problem solver. This is a problem. Put together a team and solve it. That is an order, Lieutenant...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> When I was researching bolians in preparation for the character Napoleon Boles (half human, half bolian) Memory Alpha and Beta gave me the following information - bolians are carrion eaters (therefore they have significant body odor) but they are also exceptionally polite, so they go to great lengths to control their odors for the benefit of other species. But Dr. Boles, a child of rape and an outcast, though brilliant, is not a particularly polite individual...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 7: Blue Morning, Blue Day

20.7  
Blue Morning, Blue Day

“You stink, Boles.” Commander Kenny Dolphin was neither being mean nor joking. It was just a straight statement of fact.

Dolphin had requested this meeting in the privacy of the small surgery between the medical office and the larger surgery.

“You are human,” Lt. Napoleon Boles countered. “Humans are often…”  
“Agent Anana Lynarr is full blood bolian and she does not make me wince when she walks into a room,” Dolphin countered. “You do. We have andorians, humans, bolians, betazoids, bajorans, ferengi, rigellians, vulcans, trills, and a veritable menagerie of hybrids living in extremely close quarters on this vessel. I never get any foul odor complaints about anyone except you.”  
Boles was taken aback – again, Dolphin’s tone was not hot, just matter-of-fact. “My body chemistry…” he started.  
“Napoleon, you are the most creative person on this boat,” Dolphin interrupted with some exasperation. “You are an expert biologist and an expert chemist and you have access to expert chemists – notably Dr. Tolon and Dr. Trei. You have earned a reputation as a problem solver. This is a problem. Put together a team and solve it. That is an order, Lieutenant.”  
Boles snapped to attention. “Yes sir!” – almost too emphatically.  
Dolphin sighed. “Pull whatever resources you need. Ask Sam to help as a control – he’s fully bajoran and has the most sensitive nose around here. And one more thing, Napoleon, for both our sakes.. When you ask your crewmates for help with this, let them think it’s your initiative and that I authorized the project at your request.”  
“Are you instructing me to lie?” Boles asked.  
“I am recommending you dissemble,” Dolphin replied. “If you tell people you really want to do this and that I authorized it, that would not be a lie. But telling people I bluntly ordered you to… resolve this issue… it would just cast both of us in an unfavorable light. Better to play the humble hero of this story than the victimized outcast.”

About an hour later, Boles was working with Dr. Jazz Sam Sinder, the first person whom he had approached about the issue.  
“I’m really glad you asked me,” said Jazz, “and that you asked me first. We can structure the investigation first and then bring other people in as we need them. I have actually helped several crew members with controlling their atmospheres to an acceptable norm.”  
“I really should have asked you some time ago,” Boles replied. “My last post had a large number of bolians – so many that I just generally spent more time with them.”  
“And bolians, being carrion eaters, are a little more… um… appreciative of a broader bouquet of aromas,” Jazz concluded.  
Boles laughed. “I have never heard it put so politely.”

Jazz smiled. “Most people think of themselves like moving boulders of flesh.” He thumped his chest. “They think they begin and end at their skin. Truth is, we’re more like walking planets. We have atmospheres and leave a trail of chemicals everywhere we go.” Jazz tapped his nose ridges. “Bajorans are acutely aware of this, but bolians, humans – everyone on this ship has a good enough nose to see our environment as a chemical soup. I know within minutes when someone gets horny even when they’re on another deck. Or mad, or injured, or drunk. With training and discipline, you can too. But the first step is to become acutely aware of your own chemical trail.”  
“So you’re saying I should actually be… sniffing everyone?” Boles ran his blue hand over his deep blue scalp, squeezed the back of his neck.  
“And I know every time you do that,” said Jazz. "When you squeeze your neck like that, it releases gasses trapped in your throat. Most people wouldn’t notice, but…” Jazz tapped his nose ridges again.  
“I didn’t realize I was such a seething gas bag…”  
“Everybody is. Dolphin put you up to this, didn’t he?” asked Jazz.  
“He was pretty direct about it,” Boles answered.  
“He runs a very different ship from Pep,” Jazz observed. “Everyone loves Pep and Pep has been in Star Fleet for more than a decade – he graduated near the top of his class at Star Fleet Academy. Dolphin came in five years ago with a Ph.D. in Philosophy and six months’ Officer Candidate School, but he runs a much tighter ship.”

“You like it,” Boles said with some surprise.

“I joined the Bajoran Resistance when I was 11,” said Jazz. “No uniforms, no rank and file, just a bunch of desperate kids, farmers and old men fighting the cardassians any way we could. I barely escaped a couple of cardassian prisons. We didn’t stand a chance. Sooner or later the cardassians would have ended us. Then the cardassians thought they would start a war with the Federation. My uncle managed to sneak me off planet to serve with a Federation medical unit as an observer and volunteer. I hated the cardassians and their boots and their uniforms, but Star Fleet – those people were professional. Really polished.   
“When we got captured, they put me in a Star Fleet uniform and pretended I was one of them. The cardassians treated their Star Fleet prisoners very differently from the way they treated bajorans. It was like they were almost afraid of them. They tried to act tough, but I could see the fear in their eyes when they talked to our lieutenant – and he was a doctor – he had never carried a weapon.” Jazz brushed and straightened his uniform. “This is just cloth, but whenever I put it on, I feel like I’m putting on armor. People are having to work a little harder with Dolphin running this boat, but they’re walking just a little straighter too. Feeling a little tougher. I like that feeling.”  
Boles made a harrumphing noise. “Not how I was feeling about him…”  
Jazz smiled. “Pep would never call you on an odor. He has a little bit of halitosis himself. Most people don’t notice it because his mouth is up here…” Jazz waved his hand about a half-foot above his head. “That’s where we need to start for you, too. Since you’re part human, there are lots of highly processed human foods you can digest, but you probably don’t digest them very well, and that will cause gasses to come out of pretty much every corner of your body – mostly your mouth. I’ve handled this sort of thing a lot – we have a lot of hybrids. In Pep’s case, he loves his meat, but he’s a quarter andorian and a quarter orion, neither of whom can handle red meat at all. So, let’s start by reviewing your diet…”

20.7


	10. Episode 20.8 - Survival: The Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The tiny U.S.S. Hunter is attacked by two enormous romulan warbirds... and escapes only to face down one of the new gigantic romulan battlegods...
> 
>  _“Prowler class,” said Ekot._  
>  _“Registry reads N.D.C. 1201, U.S.S. Hunter,” said Centurion Cireeka._  
>  _“Not N.C.C.?” asked Sela._  
>  _“N.C.C. designates ships constructed for Star Fleet under a contract with the United States Navy and Curtis Industries out of San Francisco, California on Earth,” said Commander Hundeeth. “The Prowler class are constructed under the same contract by the Daystrom Institute at New Eden, Mars. N.C.C. stands for Navy-Curtis Craft. N.D.C. is Navy-Daystrom Craft...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> If you have been with Star Trek Hunter from the start, this scene is the same as Episode 1 - Flash Forward (which has only one scene). Episode 1 mentions two new crew members who have never heard Justice Irons give an order. Those crew members are Ensign Chelna Zusa and Ensign Eykirros Jones.
> 
> Here is a link back to that first scene - told from Justice Irons' point of view. The following is told from Kenny Dolphin's point of view...
> 
> [ **Star Trek Hunter - Series 1**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19333762)  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 8: The Ghost

20.8  
The Ghost

“It looks like a subspace distortion – a powerful one!”   
Lt. Gaia Gamor was already shutting down the warp drive as Commander Kenneth Dolphin gave the order: “Bring us out of warp!”  
“The reading is about 30 light minutes ahead of us and closing fast – should we go to quiet mode?” asked 2nd. Lt. Tolon Reeves, currently at the tactical station.  
“Shields up, power weapons, intercepting fire, now!” commanded Dolphin. “Dr. Moon, transfer additional atmosphere and plasma to the tactical unit. Lieutenant Commander Tauk to the bridge!”  
Tolon had the shields and phasers up, but wasn’t certain what he was supposed to be shooting at until two romulan warbirds decloaked just as they were coming out of warp. One of them almost immediately sent out a spray of torpedoes toward the U.S.S. Hunter. Tolon’s hands were suddenly busy warding off a half dozen torpedoes. At least one torpedo got close enough to briefly overcome the Hunter’s inertial dampeners and rock the ship.  
Lt. Gamor sang out as a reading flashed on the navigation station next to her. “The third beacon signal just came through! We have a fix…”   
One of the romulan warbirds turned immediately and went to warp at the same moment that Lt. Cmdr. Tauk arrived on the bridge, cane in hand.  
“And they read it too,” Gamor continued. “They’re headed straight for it.”  
“Staff tactical!” Dolphin ordered.   
Just as Lt. Cmdr. Tauk disappeared into the hatch for the tactical unit, Justice Minerva Irons came out of her office: “Commander Dolphin…”  
“Yes your honor?”  
“I want her back. Alive if possible, but I want her back.”  
“Aye, Captain,” Dolphin said, then followed Tauk into the hatch and up into the tactical unit.

The little ferengi, now seated at the navigation/tactical station, was giving himself an injection in the neck with a hypospray unit. For the first time in months, his eyes opened all the way and he took a deep, shuddering breath.  
“Are you okay, Tauk?”  
“Hurts like fire!” Tauk replied. “But I feel like I could wrestle an armored grummerhog to the ground and tear it apart with my bare hands!” He was visibly shaking. “Napoleon says I have about 6-10 hours of this, then I’m going to crash, hard. I don’t want to think about how that’s going to feel. Am I talking too much?” he asked as Dolphin, now in the pilot’s seat, hit the launch button at the very moment Justice Irons’ order came through:   
“Launch tactical. Simulate breach! Quick Quiet! Unnngghhh!!”  
Tauk and Dolphin both held on as the tactical unit lurched hard on launch, ejecting the additional atmosphere and plasma to make it appear the Hunter had been destroyed by a near torpedo explosion.

The deception almost worked too well.. The plasma between the tactical unit and the Hunter’s platform ignited, driving the two units apart and causing the tactical unit to tumble. With only minimal inertial dampeners online, Tauk and Dolphin found themselves made nauseous by the G-forces. But there was no time to indulge in that feeling.   
“They’ve gone to warp,” said Tauk.  
“Without even coming over here to check their handiwork? That’s too sloppy for a romulan…” said Dolphin.  
“Are we going after them or not?”  
“Hang on to your walking stick…” In two swift moves Dolphin righted the tactical unit, then went to warp, tearing after the two giant romulan warbirds.

\- * -

“Supreme Commander, the Pistris has…” Admiral Ekot had started speaking into the comm system, but within three words, Sela left her office and stepped onto the Bestia’s spacious bridge. Ekot walked toward her. “The Pistris and the Simiae have engaged the ghost.”  
“Admiral, Supreme Commander…” Commander Hundeeth was in the command chair. “We just received the third beacon. And the Simiae has broken off to head for the beacon source.”  
“Put us on course for the ghost, Commander,” Sela said. She ran her hand through her short, thick blonde hair, then made a fist. “Got them!”  
Admiral Ekot raised his eyebrows.  
“Oh, let me have a moment…” Sela said, then immediately her face hardened. “No, you’re right, no weakness. It’s just so tempting to give in to my human nature for a moment.”  
Hundeeth spoke up. “The Pistris reports the ghost is destroyed and they are on course for the beacon source.”

Sela stormed to the command chair. “How long until we reach the contact point?”  
“Three minutes, Supreme Commander,” Commander Hundeeth replied.  
“Keep us cloaked when we come out of warp,” said Sela. “Then I want a thorough search pattern.” She turned to another officer. “Get me the Pistris telemetry from that fight now,” Sela turned toward the admiral of the first fleet. “Admiral Ekot, who is commanding the Pistris?”  
“Commander Sillila,” Ekot responded.  
“And her second?”  
“Sub-Commander Thutuk.”  
“The Pistris is now Commander Thutuk’s command and Centurion Sillila goes to engineering…”  
Commander Hundeeth interrupted. “You will want to see this… We are in sensor range and we're picking up a ship there…”  
Sela whirled and looked at the image of the U.S.S. Hunter (sans its tactical unit) on the screen. “I was right! It is a swaeshaeul!”  
“Prowler class,” said Ekot.  
“Registry reads N.D.C. 1201, U.S.S. Hunter,” said Centurion Cireeka.  
“Not N.C.C.?” asked Sela.  
“N.C.C. designates ships constructed for Star Fleet under a contract with the United States Navy and Curtis Industries out of San Francisco, California on Earth,” said Commander Hundeeth. “The Prowler class are constructed under the same contract by the Daystrom Institute at New Eden, Mars. N.C.C. stands for Navy-Curtis Craft. N.D.C. is Navy-Daystrom Craft.”  
Sela raised her eyebrows. “You are a walking university, Hundeeth. I’m willing to bet there are a lot of Star Fleet officers who wouldn’t know that. That swaeshaeul should easily fit in our large hangar. Remain cloaked. Tie in the dampening generator to the tractor beam, kill that ship and put it in our large hangar. As soon as it is there, physically strap it down.”  
Sela turned toward Admiral Ekot. “Belay that order about Commander Sillila. She didn’t just leave without confirming a kill – she left a fully functional Star Fleet vessel unmolested in romulan space! I want her publicly stripped, striped and sent to the farms. From now on, she is Field Hand Sillila. She flew off, thinking she had destroyed this ship and left it right here, safe and sound. They must have blown out some of their own atmosphere and plasma to simulate a breach. Notify me when the Hunter is secured. I will be in my office reviewing the telemetry from Pistris.”

\- * -

_Your honor_ … Justice Minerva Irons was reclining on the chase in the medical office. She had suffered a cracked rib from being thrown against her seat restraint during the fire fight. The voice in her head came from Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace – which meant it was urgent. _We are not alone. There are almost a million minds out there. A cloaked ship. It has to be a battlegod.  
_ _Tell Gaia to take us to_ …. At the very moment Irons was thinking the word “warp” all the lights and control panels shut off. Irons found she suddenly had navigator Eli Strahl’s voice in her mind.  
_Minerva – the bridge has lost all power. I reached out to Dr. Moon. She told me all power systems have failed.  
_ _Rumi_ , Irons thought, _broadcast to all hands – prepare to be boarded. Tell Anana to hide_. Irons pictured Navigator Eli Strahl in her mind. _Eli, I need you to wake up the borg in my office and give him the following detailed instructions_ …

20.8


	11. Episode 20.9 - Survival: Roat Farm 1-A, 179,792

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Justice Minerva Irons and the crew of the U.S.S. Hunter have been taken prisoner and are sent to work on a museum farm, there to live their lives as pre-industrial romulan peasants. The conditions on the farm are sufficient to meet the prisoner treatment requirements of the Khitomer Accords...
> 
>  _But the Hunter’s crew were not responding to this bucolic sunup serenade – they were sleeping a gorgeous sunrise away. Only two other people were up: Dr. Tali Shae was talking to a blonde woman wearing a shimmering, dark green gown. The blonde woman noticed that Irons was awake and walked toward her._  
>  _Irons was only slightly telepathic, but the power and confidence of this woman hit her like a wave of warm air. Even before she recognized the face, it was clear that this was the infamous half-romulan / half-human known as Sela – the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Romulan Star Navy and unquestioned ruler of the Romulan Star Empire..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The slave farms (located nearby) operated almost exclusively by Hemra slaves are nowhere near as pleasant or bucolic as the gilded cage Sela has for her Federation captives.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 9: Roat Farm 1-A, 179,792

20.9  
Roat Farm 1-A-179,792

Justice Minerva Irons woke up in a hammock suspended between two trees. She tried to sit up, groaned in pain, then managed to swing her legs around and dangle them off the edge of the hammock, her feet barely touching the bluish green grass. This position allowed her to recline slightly in the hammock, taking the pressure off her cracked rib.  
All around her, her crew were reclining on the ground. She could tell that they were breathing. Sleeping. A number of them were snoring. In addition to this somnolent symphony, unfamiliar insects were making various unfamiliar creaking noises that somehow sounded nightly. Light was slowly growing on what was evidently a meadow in the midst of vast farmland bounded by forest on all sides, beyond which snow-capped mountains could be seen in the distance. Unfamiliar birds made unfamiliar morning birdsong – yet it was somehow clearly the pre-dawn singing and rustling of small flying animals.  
Large animals in the near distance, or perhaps housed in a nearby barn made vaguely bovine morning noises.   
But the Hunter’s crew were not responding to this bucolic sunup serenade – they were sleeping a gorgeous sunrise away. Only two other people were up: Dr. Tali Shae was talking to a blonde woman wearing a shimmering, dark green gown. The blonde woman noticed that Irons was awake and walked toward her.  
Irons had noticed her telepathic had grown dramatically since her stroke; the power and confidence of this woman hit her like a wave of warm air. Even before she recognized the face, it was clear that this was the infamous half-romulan / half-human known as Sela – the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Romulan Star Navy and unquestioned ruler of the Romulan Star Empire. Irons did not need to look around – there were no other romulans present. Only Sela, alone and apparently unarmed, and completely relaxed among a field of enemies who were just now beginning to awaken.

“Supreme Commander,” Irons said. “Forgive me for not rising to greet you, but I am injured and I am very, very old.”  
“I must say I am impressed, your honor,” Sela started. “No, please, remain seated… You took that baby shoe of a ship into battle against two romulan warbirds, convinced them to flee the field of battle, and your ship is nearly unscathed and you suffered the only injury of your entire crew. They are fine, by the way, just sedated. We thought it best if their captain were to wake first.”  
“We?” asked Irons.  
Tali Shae stepped a little closer. “Dr. Jazz and I developed the narcotics. It was either that or leave the crew to the tender mercy of romulan pharmaceuticals.”  
“I will wait until your crew is awake,” said Sela. “Please marshal them and I will address them and explain your futures to you. Your ship, of course, is now mine.”  
“I do have one request regarding the U.S.S. Hunter,” Irons said.

Sela gazed at the judge, clearly in no mood to compromise.

“When you attempt to restart the warp core, please be sure the Hunter is at least 200 light years away from us. It is a tricky engine and very unfortunate things happen when it is mishandled. The last time that happened, the engine imploded, killing not only all of my crew, but everyone within a radius of 110 light years. Eight times.”  
“What are you talking about?” asked Sela, clearly confused.  
“We ended up in a paradox loop and were killed by implosion eight times before our previous director of engineering found a way out of the paradox,” Irons replied. “Imploding into oblivion is quite unpleasant. I recommend avoiding it, if you can.”  
“I can tell when people are lying,” said Sela, looking at Irons suspiciously. “And you are not lying. But I will worry about that later. Your crew is awakening. I will return in a few minutes.” With that, Sela walked off toward the barns.

“Tali,” said Irons. “You are once again my first officer. Gather the medical department there…” she pointed to an area to her left, next to one of the trees her hammock was tied to. “But get me Lieutenant Boles first.”

Getting Boles involved a little bit of shoving as he seemed the groggiest of the crew. But once he was sufficiently conscious to understand the captain wanted him, he leapt to his feet, smoothed his uniform and tried not to run to report to Justice Irons.  
“Lieutenant, for now you are my second officer. Marshal your departments in this area…” Irons vaguely gestured toward the area in front of her and to her right. The medical department was already assembling to her left. “Officers in front, crew lined up behind their supervisors.”  
“Aye, Captain,” Boles responded and turned to find Lt. Moon, Lt. Gamor and Lt. T’Lon had been standing behind him. He looked down briefly, then back up. “All three of you are Star Fleet Academy graduates?”  
“We are, sir,” Lt. Moon responded.  
Boles pointed to his left. “Engineering…” he swept his hand center, then to his right. “Flight Operations, Ground Operations. Parade formation.” Lt. Moon and Lt. Gamor turned immediately to summon their people. Boles looked at the ground and muttered to himself, “Second officer? What do I do now?”  
He was surprised when Lt. T’Lon put her hand on his chest. “You behave like the Star Fleet Academy graduate that you are and act as if you know what you are doing – even when you don’t.”  
“Don’t you need to summon your people?” Boles asked, only to see the ground operations department already assembling.  
“My department has several telepaths,” T’Lon answered.   
Lt. Boles made an amused noise, then asked quietly, “Why did Justice Irons choose me for this?”  
“She didn’t,” T’Lon replied. “Kenny did.” She patted his chest, then stepped back to stand in front of her department just as the other departments were assembling.

Justice Minerva Irons addressed her crew: “You are about to be addressed by the Supreme Commander of not only the Romulan Star Navy, but the Romulan Star Empire. I expect you to behave as you would for any head of state - with the greatest of respect. Those of you who are telepathic, I do not want any attempt for you to read her mind or try to communicate with her. Discipline your minds to silence and remember every detail about what you are about to experience.”

Sela was walking up as Justice Irons completed her remarks. She cut an extremely elegant figure in the emerald green gown. A simple black belt gathered the garment around her waist, but she wore no other adornment and she was barefoot – clearly enjoying the feeling of the grass beneath her feet.

“Welcome to Roat Farm 1-A-179,792. That is a deeply hidden bureaucratic code for an experiment. We have created very few of these environments against the need to keep people like you in ways that do not violate the Khitomer Accords. Only now does the wisdom of such preparation appeal to me. This is your new home and you will live here and work these fields the rest of your lives. The only possibility of your return to the Federation is if there is a prisoner exchange. And we would never take such a risk.  
“But you can have good lives here - very much unlike any of our other guests. You will live the way romulan farmers lived four thousand years ago. No electricity. But you will have running water. You will easily harvest enough roats and brukkas and milk and eggs to meet your quota and have plenty left to feed yourselves and increase your harvest for the next year.   
“There is a library in the main farmhouse that will teach you the romulan language, romulan history and then, most importantly for your purposes, romulan farming and animal husbandry. You have six anaixes in that barn. Unless you learn how to yoke them and harness them to the plough, you will starve before the year is out. But I understand you are an exceptionally smart and capable crew, so I am certain you will learn everything you need to know.  
“Consider yourselves fortunate - this is a part of Romulus that you are standing on. This soil - the life in it. The life you will bring forth from it - all from Romulus. Treat it with reverence. You will not see my people very often - the occasional inspection and consultation. And when it is time to collect our share of your harvest. But remember - we will see and hear everything you do…” Sela walked into the ranks, looked up at Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace, reached up and tapped her on the forehead: “And everything you think…”  
Sela walked back to the front of the ranks and placed her hand on Lt. Gamor’s shoulder, looked around at the rest of the Hunter’s crew. “And please do not do the human thing - I know there is only one pure human among you, but so many of you, like me, have human ancestry… This is the most important thing I have to tell you… Don’t… Do Not fail to appreciate the wonders that await you. Don’t screw this up.”

Sela walked back to the hammock. Justice Minerva Irons slowly and painfully got to her feet..  
“I know you may not expect this,” Irons said, “but on behalf of my crew, thank you, Supreme Commander. Whatever duty may require of us, please understand we are and will always be grateful for and deeply appreciative of this place.”  
“Your words were very carefully phrased, your honor. I will consider them accordingly. Take care of your people,” Sela said, then, with flashing lights and a familiar whining sound, she was beamed away.

20.9


	12. Episode 20.10 - Survival: Taking Stock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Justice Minerva Irons takes stock of the situation and gives her crew orders to explore the farm and its boundaries. Her two andorian crew members, more sensitive to motion than any others, make a stunning discovery...  
> Meanwhile, the tiny U.S.S. Hunter, bereft of power, still has plenty of surprises for the romulans...
> 
>  _Irons turned her attention to Tolon Reeves. “Lieutenants Tolon and Phillips. Take the rest of the tactical squad, the pilots and navigators. Find anything around here that can be used for weapons. I want three teams with a tactical squad member and a navigator on each team. This place has boundaries. Find them and report back...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> When I did the research on the romulan ships, I found that the design for the romulan warbird had the ship nearly three times the size of the Galaxy class U.S.S. Enterprise D. The new romulan battlegods are nearly the size of a borg cube. There is a reason (to be revealed later) why the romulans were building such enormous ships...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 10: Taking Stock

20.10  
Taking Stock

Moments after Sela had left, the crew of the U.S.S. Hunter was still assembled. Justice Minerva Irons was taking stock of the situation.

“We are prisoners and the first obligation of a prisoner is to escape. That understood, we cannot make light of Sela’s warning. We must treat this place with reverence and leave it better than we found it. To that end, we will live the lifestyle of pre-industrial romulan farmers.” Irons raised her hand. “How many of us can read romulan script and understand the written romulan language?” She was pleasantly surprised that in addition to the majority of her officers, the entire flight operations department and most of the engineers raised their hands.   
“You as well, K’rok?” Irons asked, surprised that her half-klingon transporter engineer had raised his hand.   
“Romulan poetry is underrated,” K’rok replied. “Pep got me interested in it.”  
Irons smiled. “For the rest of you, I will be your teacher. The least we can do in return for our treatment here is acquire an appreciation for romulan history and culture. Such understanding is very likely to be of increasing value to the federation.” She raised her hand again. “How many of us have farming or animal husbandry experience?”  
In response to this question, there were a surprisingly large number – in addition to herself there were Lt. Boles, Lt. Gamor, Ensign Alstars, Ensign Chelna Zusa (the new rigellian pilot coordinator), Ensign Eykirros Jones (the new half-kitarran investigations coordinator), Investigator Buttans Ngumbo, Flight Engineer Tomos and Tactical Specialist Veri Geki.   
“Unfortunately, my farming experience is limited to deep sea fishing, pineapple trees and making pineapple cider, none of which is likely to be of great use here,” Irons said. “Dr. Boles, please pull together the other crew members with farming or ranching experience, assess their knowledge, then tour the facility with them and evaluate what needs to be done. Dr. Moon, get your department on evaluating the structures and the water systems and draw up maintenance and repair plans. Lt. T’Lon, evaluate available life support resources. Find out if there is clothing here for us. If so, please determine if it is suitable for working. If it is, I want our people to use that clothing when performing farming chores – in uniform at other times.”  
Justice Irons turned her attention to Tolon Reeves. “Lieutenants Tolon and Phillips. Take the rest of the tactical squad, the pilots and navigators. Find anything around here that can be used for weapons. I want three teams with a tactical squad member and a navigator on each team. This place has boundaries. Find them and report back.”  
Irons noticed the odd expression on Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq’s face. “What is it, Chief zh’Qaoleq?”  
Thyssi stepped forward. Dr. Tali Shae had the same strange expression. Irons looked at the two andorians. “Well… out with it…”  
Thyssi and Tali looked at each other. “Your honor,” Thyssi said, “I’m not sure anyone else noticed, but while you were speaking, we went to warp.”  
“What??” Irons asked.

“She’s right, Minerva,” Dr. Tali Shae responded. “We’re on a ship. A really big one…”

20.10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Ensign Chelna Zusa (Zuza)  
> Human Ethnicity: N/a  
> Additional Species: Rigellian  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Zig Farm, Rigel IV  
> Introduced: Episode 20.10  
> Age when introduced: 22  
> Role: Flight Team Leader, U.S.S. Hunter
> 
> Character: Ensign Eykirros Jones (Ike Jones)  
> Human Ethnicity: African American  
> Additional Species: Kitarran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Traders Pointe, Rising Sun  
> Introduced: Episode 20.10  
> Age when introduced: 19  
> Role: Tactical Squad Leader, U.S.S. Hunter


	13. Episode 20.11 - Survival: Passive Aggression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Supreme Commander Sela wants onboard the captured U.S.S. Hunter

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 11: Passive Aggression  
  


20.11  
Passive Aggression

“How is it that we cannot beam aboard a ship that has no power?”  
Sela, still clad in her emerald gown, but now wearing black leather deck shoes, was standing in the large hangar looking at the U.S.S. Hunter. It was the smallest manned deep space vessel Star Fleet had ever commissioned – but still far larger than a runabout. It was easily the largest object in the Bestia’s enormous primary hangar, which accommodated several types of launches, including cargo sleds designed to move cargo containers that were themselves several times the size of a runabout.   
The Hunter had an alien look to it – completely different from traditional Star Fleet designs. The ovular saucer section was perched directly over a broad rectangular foot that contained the ship’s primary nacelle. The dark, flowing exterior of the ship was somehow slick to the touch. Admiral Ekot grimaced as Sela ran her hand along part of the nacelle. There was no friction. The surface was hard, smooth and subtly curved, leaving no straight lines or hard corners. Even devoid of power and life, the ship seemed to be crouched in a menacing pose, ready to spring.

“This ship has very subtle passive defense capabilities,” said Commander Hundeeth. “We are bombarding it with a dampening field, but every time we try to beam a monitor onboard, the transporter signal provides power to a countermeasure system inside the ship that scrambles and deflects the transporter beam. Every time we try to scan the interior, the scanning signal provides power to one countermeasure system or another that scrambles and deflects the scan.”  
Sela shook her head slowly. “Can’t we feed it a virus to take down those countermeasures?”  
Hundeeth shrugged. “It would be like trying to infect a hunting knife with a computer virus. So far we have encountered well over a thousand independent countermeasure systems. Each one only responds to a certain type of energy and none of them process information. They respond in direct proportion to the power we feed them. When we try multiple, simultaneous attacks, multiple systems respond – each to the unique attack it is designed to counter.”  
“Have you tried the door?” Sela asked.  
“The skin appears to be continuous. No breaks. Until we can get a sensor beam through that skin, we don’t even know where the doors are,” Hundeeth replied.  
“Then how were we able to beam the crew out?”  
“Living beings are also power sources. We were able to lock on to them by their bio-signatures. This ship’s countermeasures can prevent us from beaming anything aboard – that requires active scanning. But those systems could not prevent us from locating the crew with a passive scan and beaming them out. I suspect if the ship had power, we would not have been able to do that either.”  
Admiral Ekot walked up to the nacelle, touched it where Sela had. “you remain opposed to trying to cut into it?”  
“That would interfere with my plans,” Sela replied. “I need this ship to remain spaceworthy.”  
Hundeeth nodded. “Cutting into the skin would be a dangerous operation. It could damage evidence about the ship’s design. Given the remarkable number of passive defensive capabilities of this ship, cutting could also trigger a variety of hazardous countermeasures.”  
“I want onboard that ship, Hundeeth,” said Sela.   
“Every puzzle has a solution,” Hundeeth replied. “The limiting factors are time and imagination. My best team is on this.”  
“Satisfactory,” Sela said. “But I have other problems I need you to solve. Monitor their progress and inspire them as needed.” Sela turned and walked to one of the many transfer lifts. Admiral Ekot followed her.  
Commander Hundeeth waited until the lift zoomed away, then opened his mouth widely, placed the knuckle of his thumb in his mouth and let loose an ear-shattering whistle. Romulans throughout the enormous hangar stopped whatever they were doing and turned. Hundeeth made a quick gesture with three fingers, then with his thumb and several of the people who had stopped hurried toward him.

\- * -

Behind a false bulkhead in Justice Minerva Irons’ office inside the darkened U.S.S. Hunter, a small light came on, then began to glow just a little brighter. There was a slight whine of tiny servo motors activating and the glowing ocular implant that had replaced Hugh Mann’s left eye glowed a little brighter, producing just enough light to reflect off the bulkhead and dimly illuminate the pale, rough skin of the borg’s face. The borg’s right eye opened suddenly… His head turned mechanically, sharply, first slightly to the left, then to the right…

20.11


	14. Episode 20.12 - Survival: Pepperheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Commander Dolphin and Lt. Commander Tauk find the wreckage of the I.K.V. 'Iw Hov and with it their missing crewmates....
> 
>  _Pep's image appeared on the screen. He didn’t look good. “Losing atmosphere. We’ve been here 6 days. Not enough power to send a signal. I have a hemorrhage. It is beyond Mlady’s ability to heal. I have left a longer message – for later. Within the two hours, I will be dead..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> If you have been with the story since the beginning, I recommend you go back and re-read Episode 7.8 - The Great Mushroom: Mushroom Dreams (Chapter 65). Here's a link back to Series 1
> 
> [ **Star Trek Hunter - Series 1**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19333762)  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 12: Pepperheart

20.12  
Pepperheart

“I estimate the first of the romulan warbirds will arrive in about eleven hours.” Lt. Commander Tauk, wearing a full EVA suit, was standing well behind Commander Kenneth Dolphin (also in an EVA suit), who was inspecting the wreckage of a klingon bird of prey.   
Dolphin carefully gripped a twisted hull plate. He easily lifted the massive piece of metal and tossed it into space. This exposed a corner of the bridge of the wrecked vessel. The asteroid the klingon ship had collided with was so small it had very little gravity. For safety, Dolphin and Tauk were independently tethered to pitons driven into the asteroid. Dolphin unhooked his tether from his EVA suit and magnetized his boots, then ducked and crawled into the bridge. Tauk followed him. They turned on their helmet lights.  
“Pep…” Tauk said, grief evident in his voice. Dolphin walked slowly over to join his 2nd officer.

Wedged firmly into the captain’s chair, his legs crushed beyond any hope of recovery, an oddly beatific expression on his face - almost ecstatic, was the enormous body of Commander David Pepper. His chest had been ripped open from his neck to his waist, his enormous rib cage split open, exposing now completely desiccated organs. A hole in the middle of his organs where his heart should have been. For all this damage, there was surprisingly little blood. In Pep’s right hand was a viewer.

Tauk took the viewer from Pep’s hand. He and Dolphin looked at each other.   
Tauk thumbed a control on the viewer. Two files were displayed. One was titled “Read Now.” The other was titled “Read Later.”  
Tauk looked at Kenny again, then pressed a control that activated the file titled “Read Now.”

Pep's image appeared on the screen. He didn’t look good. “Losing atmosphere. We’ve been here 6 days. Not enough power to send a signal. I have a hemorrhage. It is beyond Mlady’s ability to heal. I have left a longer message – for later. Within the two hours, I will be dead. When you find me, my blood will be gone, but my heart is not missing. It will be where it has been for the past 20 years - with her. It should give her enough food for a prolonged hibernation. When you wake her, if she is still alive, do not feed her. Keep her bound. She will try to attack. But she should calm down within five minutes. Once she is calm, you can feed her blood, but only Tali’s blood will be truly nutritious for her. It may take a long time for her to recover to her normal state. You will find her in the atmosphere reclamation chamber, next to the warp core. This last is critically important. None of her remains may be allowed to remain here. Whatever you find of her, alive or dead, return all of it to the Federation. As for my empty shell, I die in command of the I.K.V. ‘Iw Hov. I am to remain with my ship.”

Lt. Cmdr. Tauk led the way slowly deeper into the broken klingon ship.  
“How are we going to feed her without Tali Shae?” Dolphin asked.  
“One step at a time, sir. Let’s find her and get her back to the tactical unit first,” Tauk replied. Dolphin could hear the ferengi’s tortured breathing through the communicator in his helmet. Eventually they worked their way through a number of air locks to a section of the ship that was still pressurized.  
“Close to zero degrees Celsius,” Tauk said. “Almost no oxygen. Mostly CO2.”  
They found Lt. Cmdr. Mlady wrapped in a pile of blankets.  
“Can you beam her directly into the maintenance hatch?” Dolphin asked.  
“I set up a transporter code just for that,” Tauk replied. He touched a few controls on the arm of his EVA suit and with a familiar pattern of lights, Mlady was beamed out.   
“Time to try out our other new transporter program,” Dolphin said. “You first.”  
Tauk looked around, then found a cargo container – walked over and sat down on it. Dolphin touched a few controls on the arm of his EVA suit and Tauk was beamed out.

Moments later, Commander Dolphin was transported into the pilot seat on the bridge of the tactical unit. Tauk was rocking back and forth in the tactical/navigation seat next to him, eyes squeezed shut, a grimace of pain on his face.  
“Looks like your idea worked, Tauk,” Dolphin said. “The transporter successfully separated me from my EVA suit and beamed the suit's components directly into storage.” He paused, watched Tauk rocking. “The painkillers and stimulants aren’t working anymore, are they?”  
“We need to leave before the romulans get here,” Tauk replied. “Then we need to revive Mlady.”  
“I don’t know how we’re going to do that without Tali Shae.”  
“One step at a time, Kenny. Let’s find a nice secluded patch of space to go dark in. Far away from here.”  
“I’m not taking any chances with the remains of the ‘Iw Hov,” said Dolphin. “A photon torpedo to its weapons array should be sufficient. The secondary explosions will take care of the rest.”  
“Aye, Commander,” Tauk responded, then touched a few controls. “Torpedo away.” Then, very softly, “Goodbye, Pep.”

The tactical unit glided away as a photon torpedo struck the wreck of the bird of prey just below the bridge, causing massive secondary explosions from its unexploded munitions, demolishing the remains of the small attack vessel and the asteroid it had collided with.

_* ‘Iw Hov – (thlingn hol - Blood Star)_

20.12


	15. Episode 20.13 - Survival: Breaking Buddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Hunter's half bolian, half human epidemiologist and former ranch hand breaks a large romulan beast for riding....
> 
> _Apparently the word “best” was exactly the sort of word that would cause a feral anaixes to lunge – which the beast did, thrusting its tusks in an attempt to gore its blue interlocutor’s midsection. What it got instead was a lasso neatly looped around its neck as Boles danced expertly away..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> If you have been with me since Series 1, you might recall a discussion in which Napolon Boles discussed his history of wrangling large animals and saddle-breaking horses and camels. Now that skill may have survival value for the Hunter's imprisoned crew...

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 13: Breaking Buddy

20.13  
Breaking Buddy

A majority of the U.S.S. Hunter’s crew were gathered around the stockade. The anaixes looked like a rather nightmarish cross between a moose and a grizzly bear (if a bit on the large side for either) – only with downy brown and purple feathers instead of fur. And short, very businesslike tusks. It was clearly an intelligent animal and had no desire to be yoked for field service. But Lt. Napoleon Boles did not intend to yoke the beast. A large saddle, clearly designed for the anaixes, was displayed prominently on the fence. The animal regarded the saddle with what could only be described as contempt.

“He had to choose the biggest one,” Dr. Tali Shae groused, not without some grudging admiration for the half-bolian, half-human biologist. “Not that any of them are really approachable. But I think that one’s got the nastiest temper, too.”

“Okay, Buddy,” Boles said. He entered one gate of the stockade, then went through the second gate. 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui quickly closed the gate behind him – letting the lock drop into place.  
“We talked about this,” Boles continued. He was of average height, but solidly built. In addition to his Star Fleet uniform, he was wearing a pair of heavy gloves and carrying a large rope coiled in his left hand, the knot of a lasso in his right. “You and me, we’re going to be the best…”   
Apparently the word “best” was exactly the sort of word that would cause a feral anaixes to lunge – which the beast did, thrusting its tusks in an attempt to gore its blue interlocutor’s midsection. What it got instead was a lasso neatly looped around its neck as Boles danced expertly away.

For the next several minutes the anaixes made a variety of enraged, ear-piercing shrieking noises and altered between charging at the blue cowboy and trying to remove the lasso. Boles expertly evaded each attack and gave the beast plenty of rope to allow it to move freely about the stockade while allowing only minimal slack between the coil of rope in his left hand and the lasso around the animal’s neck.  
“Best friends,” Boles continued, managing a soothing sound even though he was breathing hard. Which did not have a soothing effect on the anaixes – it charged him again. This time Boles stood his ground and with a quick twist of the rope, caused the anaixes to turn to its right and circle around him. Boles gradually reeled the beast in as it charged, was forced to circle and charged again until the powerful animal was next to Boles, its head close to the ground, forced to stay in position because Boles had one foot on the rope.   
“We just have to sort a few things out first,” Boles said, then leapt cleanly over the anaixes’ neck and landed on its other side just as the beast lunged sideways at him.  
It took another forty minutes before the animal finally calmed enough to allow Boles to remove the lasso from its neck. The anaixes backed away and crouched, prepared to lunge. It glared intelligently at Boles.  
“Now you have a decision to make, Buddy. You can decide to trust me, or we can do this all over again. I can do this all day long and all day tomorrow. Or you can come over here quietly and we can have a little talk about that saddle…” It had been nearly an hour of very hard work for the anaixes. Boles appeared to hardly have any dust on his uniform. “Now give me some credit – we went through all of that and I never hurt you. We just had to come to an understanding about a few things…”  
Gradually, the anaixes relaxed, its breathing slowed. “That’s good, Buddy,” said Boles, "but you have to come over here to me. That’s the way this works. Slow and friendly now…”

\- * -

Commander Hundeeth touched the door chime for Sela’s office. He was carrying a portable viewer. The door opened. “Come in Commander,” Sela said.  
“Supreme Commander, you wanted to be notified of the progress of the prisoners in 179,792 with the anaixes…”  
“They have already started to try harnessing them?” Sela asked. Her eyes and attention were on a report on her desk viewer.  
“I’m not certain you will believe this until you see it.” Hundeeth tapped his viewer. “That odd looking bolian is riding one of them…”  
“Half bolian, half human,” Sela corrected, almost murmuring, still staring into the monitor on her desk, still absorbed in her report.

She looked up suddenly, shocked. “He’s doing what???”

20.13


	16. Episode 20.14 - Survival: The Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Lt. Cmdr. Tauk's last hope is Lt. Cmdr. Mlady. And now he and Commander Dolphin are awakening her... 
> 
> _“Tauk…” There was nothing else Dolphin could say. The grimace of pain on Tauk’s face ended any argument before it could begin._  
>  _“We have already said everything that needs to be said. It will be all right. It’s time. Be sure to lock the hatch.”_  
>  _Dolphin reluctantly backed out of the cramped maintenance hatch, leaving Tauk and Mlady. Just as he was about to close the door, he heard Tauk’s voice – “Kenny…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Please leave a comment if you saw this coming from a mile off...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 20: Survival  
Scene 14: The Inevitable

20.14  
The Inevitable

The tactical unit was nearly invisible, drifting dark in dark space, power dropped to minimal levels. The tiny, darkened bridge was empty. The door behind the command chair that led to the maintenance hatch was open. A needle in Commander Kenneth Dolphin’s arm allowed blood to flow into a line. Lt. Cmdr. Tauk was holding the other end of the line over Lt. Cmdr. Mlady’s open mouth, a thin stream of blood flowing directly into her mouth.   
The expression on her face was pathetic. She was clearly starving and the thin, unenriched human blood, though easy for her to digest, was not very nutritious.

“That’s a half-liter,” said Tauk. “You may be feeling a little dizzy and you need to increase your protein intake for the next week or so.”  
“But she’s still starving…” Dolphin said.  
Tauk carefully removed the needle from Dolphin’s arm and bandaged the small hole it had left. “It’s time for you to go to the bridge. You should get some sleep before you power this boat up and head toward the rendezvous point. Mlady will need to stay in here and you cannot release her from her chains. She will hibernate after she’s had her fill.”  
“Tauk…”  
“Kenny, you knew this was going to be my last mission…”  
“Wasn’t she supposed to heal you? Tali said she was your only hope…”   
“My only hope is for a few moments without pain,” Tauk replied. “That’s all I want now. Just a moment without all this pain. She takes away my pain and I give her all the blood and organ meat she needs to recover. No arguments, Kenny,” Tauk added as it was clear from Dolphin’s expression that he was in a mood to argue the inevitable. “You knew all along this was coming. You just couldn’t admit it to yourself.”  
“Tauk…” There was nothing else Dolphin could say. The grimace of pain on Tauk’s face ended any argument before it could begin.  
“We have already said everything that needs to be said. It will be all right. It’s time. Be sure to lock the hatch.”  
Dolphin reluctantly backed out of the cramped maintenance hatch, leaving Tauk and Mlady. Just as he was about to close the door, he heard Tauk’s voice – “Kenny…”  
Dolphin looked back into the hatch to see the ferengi, suddenly relaxed, clearly relieved of his pain, an almost blissful expression on his face. Mlady’s fangs were embedded in his arm. “It’s been an honor to serve with you, sir…”

\- * -

In a nearby region of romulan space, the massive battlegod, the Imperial Romulan Warship Bestia, briefly eclipsed one star, then another in a distant star cluster as it cruised toward the beacon source point where the I.K.V. ‘Iw Hov and the asteroid it had crashed into had been.

Then the entire distant star cluster was eclipsed by the much larger ship that was following the Bestia…

20 – Survival


	17. Episode 21.1 - The Enemy of My Enemy: Battlegod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The borg have engaged the romulans

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 1: Battlegod  
  


21.1  
Battlegod

The Romulan Star Navy had invested in the enormous warbirds, and then the far, far larger battlegods for a reason that had nothing to do with klingons or the federation, or the cardassians or the Dominion. Nothing any of those cultures had ever produced was so much of a threat that would spur such an enormous investment. The four battlegods were created to counter one specific threat – a borg cube. The battlegod was about half the size of a borg cube and was loaded with armaments unlike anything else in the alpha or beta quadrants. But the critical advantage and reason for the enormous size was the power source. Romulan warbirds were powered by artificially created microsingularities. It took over a hundred of these to be combined into the singularity that was housed in the Bestia – plenty to power the enormous disruptor cannon needed to cut through a borg cube.   
The I.R.W. Bestia was being trailed not by one borg cube, but by two. But something had happened to the borg after the collapse of their transwarp hub by Admiral Janeway. One of the borg cubes appeared generally, but not entirely complete. The other had suffered obvious damage and did not appear to be self-repairing – what repairs there were had a homemade, unprofessional look. Enormous holes in the structure were at best roughly papered over with sheet metal of some sort. Other holes in the structure simply gaped, allowing stars on the other side of the mammoth vessel to be seen through them.

“Get me a firing solution on the second ship,” said Sela.  
“That will require us to reposition,” Commander Hundeeth replied. “Either that or manage to pass a disruptor beam through the first ship.”  
“Which is why I want to hit the second ship first and I want to do it without letting the borg know that is our plan. I don’t care if we only get a corner of the second ship, get a firing solution on it. I want our torpedoes programmed to skim around the first ship and hit the second one.”  
“The second ship?” asked Admiral Ekot.   
“Do it now!!” Sela ordered.  
“We have a solution…” Hundeeth started.  
“Shoot them! I want a full volley of torpedoes – front tubes as well as aft.”  
“All front and aft tubes engaging. Main aft disruptor cannons engaged,” Hundeeth replied.  
“That second ship is the threat, Ekot,” Sela said. “For some reason the first ship is fighting and repositioning to protect the other. And if we can cripple it, we only have to face one.”  
The bridge of the Bestia shook violently as the first borg ship engaged with an enormous phaser cannon.

21.1


	18. Episode 21 - The Enemy of My Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Chapter Introduction

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy

Episode 21 – The Enemy of My Enemy

_“Being the enemy of my enemy does not make you my friend. But an honorable enemy can become a valued ally.”_

_Klingon Proverb._

Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter)

At-Large Appellate Justice, Captain Minerva Irons  
Chief Executive Officer - Commander Kenneth Dolphin  
Chief Operations Officer - Lt. Commander Mlady

Medical Director - Commander Tali Shae  
Asst. Medical Director - Lt. Jazz Sam Sinder  
Epidemiologist - Lt. Napoleon Boles  
Ensign Chrissiana Trei  
Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Sif  
Emergency Medical Hologram - Dr. Raj  
Tactical Medical Hologram - Dr. Kim

Director of Flight Operations - Lt. Gaia Gamor  
Asst. Flight Dir. - 2nd Lt. Ethan Phillips  
Navigator Johanna Imex  
Navigator Eli Strahl  
Ensign Chelna Zusa  
Chief Flight Specialist Dewayne Guth (last name rhymes with Booth)  
Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate)  
Flight Specialist Dih Terri  
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar

Director of Ground Operations - Lt. T’Lon  
Asst. Ground Ops Dir. - 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves  
Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace  
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina)  
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki  
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi  
Ensign Eykirros Jones (nickname is Ike Jones)  
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo  
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment)

Director of Engineering - Lt. Moon Sun Salek  
Asst. Engineering Dir. - 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui  
Midshipman Tammy Brazil  
Transporter Engineer K'rok  
Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars  
Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas  
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs  
Flight Engineer Tomos  
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon


	19. Episode 21.2 - The Enemy of My Enemy: The Blue Romulan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Special Agent Anana Lynarr had managed to remain hidden aboard the U.S.S. Hunter - now, with the I.R.W. Bestia under attack, she emerges, poorly disguised, and attempts to rescue the crew...
> 
>  _The romulan officer who was operating the main transporter unit was so clearly not a romulan that she should have been spotted immediately – her uniform was far too big for her and had been pulled over other clothing. A hastily applied wig of long, black hair was on a little crooked and some sort of green paste that had been smeared on her face and hands was melting, revealing blue skin underneath..._  
>  _But the security officers rushing through the hangar and adjacent cargo bay were looking for borg, not poorly disguised romulans..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Star Trek has often depicted characters in nearly flawless disguise. I like the idea of someone in an terrible disguise, improvised at the last minute, barely managing to avoid discovery...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 2: The Blue Romulan

21.2  
The Blue Romulan

In the main hangar, romulans were scrambling to report to general quarters. The romulan officer who was operating the main transporter unit was so clearly not a romulan that she should have been spotted immediately – her uniform was far too big for her and had been pulled over other clothing. A hastily applied wig of long, black hair was on a little crooked and some sort of green paste that had been smeared on her face and hands was melting, revealing blue skin underneath. And there should have been two officers at the massive main transporter console.   
There wasn’t much use for this transporter console during battle, so someone might have thought it odd that the officer operating it was evidently quite busy. But the security officers rushing through the hangar and adjacent cargo bays were looking for borg, not poorly disguised romulans.   
Just as Special Agent Anana Lynarr completed her search and enacted a massive transporter program, the entire ship shook from a hit from one of the borg vessels. Relays throughout the Bestia went haywire as energy coursed through the ship in ways it was not designed for. This caused explosions in the main transporter panel. Lynarr had to leap out of the way to avoid getting burned by forks of lightning and bursts of fire coming from the control unit.  
“Hveolhaonn yuuhhai. Hveolhaonn duhaen hnaifv iudaiht etrifven kjumnaihsou hteij. Hveolhaonn uaefvalhuneitrde'h'n yuuhhai,” Lynarr shouted with a wave of her hand at a few romulans who had started to move toward her. They returned to their own priorities. Lynarr studied the control panel. “Dhaeg hldl aellei claehis aoni’rhnniohsyrrhihdh,” she muttered and began programming what was left of the panel, making repairs to various systems as she went. She rubbed her hands, trying to redistribute the green paste, only to reveal more of the blue skin underneath. “Their eyesight must be really terrible…”

_* Hveolhaonn yuuhhai. Hveolhaonn duhaen hnaifv iudaiht etrifven kjumnaihsou hteij. Hveolhaonn uaefvalhuneitrde'h'n yuuhhai: I’m fine. I just need to repair this transporter. I will be fine._

_* Dhaeg hldl aellei claehis aoni’rhnniohsyrrhihdh: Foot food and nose water (a mildly obscene romulan curse.)_

\- * -

At the back of the massive romulan battlegod, a row of batteries that helped power one of the largest of the disrupter cannon arrays exploded, opening one end of the corridor to space. Nearly a dozen romulan engineers were killed by the explosion, another group were blown out into space and the enormous aft port array of disruptor cannon went silent. A bulkhead slammed down, cutting off the last two batteries and the remainder of the area was swiftly repressurized. Only one romulan engineer managed to survive by clinging desperately to an EPS conduit running between two of the batteries.  
Moments later, Lt. Gaia Gamor, Ensign Eykirros Jones, Ensign Chrissiana Trei, Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba, Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars and Flight Engineers Yolanda Thomas and Thomas Hobbs beamed into this battery array. The ship shook again from an explosion and threw nearly everyone against one of the walls, causing them to drop the various farming implements they had been carrying. Their boots were clotted with mud, which left long, muddy streaks across the floor as they struggled to keep their footing.   
Dr. Chrissiana Trei knelt next to the surviving romulan engineer who had also been thrown against the wall. The trill doctor helped the romulan engineer to her feet. “Does anyone speak Romulan?”  
Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas stepped forward and started talking with the engineer, then turned to Lt. Gamor. “Sir, these batteries are in direct line to power the aft port disruptors. If we can’t get that weapons array back online, the borg will get close enough to board. Engineer Muve thinks most of the batteries will work if we can route power around the first two down there that are blown out and this one,” Thomas pointed to one of the giant batteries in the middle of the line that was blown out and leaking acid. “All the tools and EPS conduit we need to do the job are in this area. If we work together, we can probably get it done in a few minutes…”  
Lt. Gamor looked around, quickly assessed the situation. “Ensign Alstars, we are your team. Let’s get this array back online. Yolanda, you, me and your new friend – we will move from one end to the other to assess the situation and make changes as needed – let’s go!”

\- * -

Dr. Tali Shae, 2nd Lt. Ethan Phillips, Chief Flight Specialists Dewayne Guth and Thyssi zh’Qaoleq, Tactical Specialist Veri Geki and Transporter Engineer K’rok were beamed into Supreme Commander Sela’s office along with a different set of farming implements. Fortunately for them, the romulan supreme commander was not in her office. Instinctively, they hid behind any furniture they could find as they could see straight through the walls onto the bridge, into a conference room behind the bridge and out into space off the port side. Neither of the borg cubes were in view. They might as well have taken seats in Sela’s office (there were plenty of chairs) as they could not be seen from any of these areas. They were able to observe Sela on the bridge, and hear her and her officers ordering the battle.

“The port aft main disruptor is back online. We are deploying now,” Commander Hundeeth stated.  
“Good,” said Sela. “Maybe that will force them to drop back so we don’t get overrun with boarding parties. I thought you told me that section had vented to space and all our engineers in that section were blown out.”  
“We have had unusual transporter activity all over the ship, mostly borg boarding parties. But apparently a team beamed into the battery room for that disruptor shortly after it repressurized,” Hundeeth replied.  
“Remind me to find out who beamed that team in there and reward them,” said Sela. “They very probably saved this ship.”

21.2


	20. Episode 21.3 - The Enemy of My Enemy: Strapped Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sela tries to board the U.S.S. Hunter

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 3: Strapped Down

21.3  
Strapped Down

Justice Minerva Irons and most of the crew of the U.S.S. Hunter were beamed into the main hangar just behind the main nacelle. She led the crew up to the back of the nacelle, pressed firmly against a section of the Hunter’s skin - several different sections - and a door opened into the rear of the nacelle. The crew who had beamed in with her followed her in single file into the darkened ship, leaving a pile of pre-industrial farming implements a few meters behind the ship.   
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo walked around the side of the ship and spotted the flimsily disguised Special Agent Anana Lynarr working frantically at the main transporter console. He sprinted quickly back and pulled Midshipman Tammy Brazil from the line. “You’re needed at the transporter console…” Buttans led Brazil away from the Hunter and to the platform Special Agent Lynarr was working (and swearing in Romulan) at. Chief Tactical Specialist Rume Grace, Ensign Chelna Zusa and 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui followed.  
“We’re missing a lot of people, Anana,” Buttans said.  
“I know, I know,” Lynarr said. “I was able to get about half of the crew here, but the resequencing program got scrambled and everyone else ended up in random locations around the ship. I’m trying to find them by their communicators. Fortunately, the romulans left your communicators on and active, so they could listen to everything you were saying. Unfortunately, I can’t easily track them all now with part of this system blown out.”  
Chief Tactical Specialist Rume Grace stepped up. “I can tell you what our people are seeing. It appears Lt. T’Lon is in main engineering. There are borg in the area and T’Lon has gathered our crew and are trying to stay out of the fire fight. The romulans and the borg both seem to be leaving our people alone in that area.”

At that moment a disruptor beam passed close to Tammy Brazil, causing her to jump aside. 

“It looks like we have a fire fight here too,” said 2nd Lt. Sun. “Brazil, Grace, remain here and get our people back. Ensign Zusa, Investigator Buttans – with me.”  
A number of borg and romulans were clashing in a far corner of the hangar.   
“Who are we helping,” asked Zusa, “The borg or the romulans?” A rigellian chelna, Ensign Zusa had gold eyes, thick grey skin, bundles of golden hair and what appeared at first to be a rhomboid tattoo surrounding her facial features. This coloration had lightened and retreated to the edges of her face – a sign of agitation among the chelna.  
“We’re helping us,” Lt. Sun replied. “The Hunter is physically strapped down. We need to cut through those straps and we also need to take out the dampening field emitter – I’m hoping that’s it - the big array above our ship. It looks like an emitter array of some sort.  
“Then we’re probably going to need that…” Zusa pointed to her left. 

The U.S.S. Hunter was the only warp capable craft in this main hangar. However, there were a number of landing craft and a couple of smaller launches with an array of external tools.   
“Those are asteroid cutters,” Zusa said. “I used to fly something similar before I joined Star Fleet. “Precision cutting tools for extracting minerals. Not much use as weapons, but I can use it to cut those straps.”  
Lt. Sun simply ran toward the mining launch. Zusa and Buttans followed him.

21.3


	21. Episode 21.4 - The Enemy of My Enemy: Buddy and the Borg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Buddy, the feral anaixes that Napoleon Boles has tamed for riding, is transported out into a corridor and the borg find themselves facing a giant, ferocious moose/bear with an angry bolian on top...
> 
>  _Napoleon looked at this borg army as they started to move toward the small contingent from the Hunter. “Oh, oh no Buddy…. I don’t like the look of this. I think the collective wants to collect you…”_  
>  _Buddy (the rather moose/bear-like anaixes) pawed the floor, only slightly disconcerted that there was no dirt for him to stir up..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> For the longest time I was thinking about this giant animal, Buddy, just throwing borg around like toys. But as I was writing this scene, I got a better idea...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 4: Buddy and the Borg

21.4  
Buddy and the Borg

Several of the corridors within the I.R.W. Bestia were enormous to allow large pieces of equipment to be moved through. In one of these, a few hundred romulans were putting up a tremendous fight against a horde of borg drones. The romulans were far more effective against borg than any other humanoid the drones had fought largely due to training, but also because of their superior physical strength.   
The romulans were fighting hand-to-hand using short swords – which were effective when used to attack the borg drones’ heads. The borg were using classic borg tactics, injecting romulans with nanites in an attempt to convert them into borg. Infected romulans used their own disruptors - shooting themselves in the heads with horrifying results to avoid being turned. 

As effective as the romulans were, they were being overwhelmed by the number of borg. Until a massive beast with a blue rider was beamed into the corridor. A number of the U.S.S. Hunter’s crew were also beamed in, carrying various farm implements. A number of borg turned to face this odd group of interlopers.   
“Okay Buddy, you’ve been itching for a fight,” said Lt. Napoleon Boles from atop the anaixes, “Let’s see what you can do…”

Suddenly, nearly all of the borg in the corridor abandoned fighting the romulans and lined up, requiring almost 30 of them to fill the corridor from one side to the other. They created a formation a dozen ranks deep.

Napoleon looked at this borg army as they started to move toward the small contingent from the Hunter. “Oh, oh no Buddy…. I don’t like the look of this. I think the collective wants to collect you…”   
Buddy (the rather moose/bear-like anaixes) pawed the floor, only slightly disconcerted that there was no dirt for him to stir up.  
“No, no no no no no no,” Napoleon exclaimed, tugging on the reins and forcing the beast to turn away. “No time to fight today….” He looked down at less than a dozen of the Hunter’s crew – seven of them in addition to himself, pathetically armed with iron farming implements. “No fighting! Run away!!! Run Away!! Run Away Run Away Run AWAY!!! RUN AWAY!!!!” Napoleon ordered from atop his mount, then spurred Buddy.  
Napoleon’s terror was infectious and the Hunter’s crew dropped their pre-industrial farming implements, turned and started running down the massive corridor, led by their fearful leader on his even more frightened steed. Buddy started bellowing in fear.   
Behind these few members of the U.S.S. Hunter’s crew marched an army of borg drones in lockstep, tight formation. The rear line of these had to turn back to fight off a rear assault from the reorganized romulans, setting up a pitched battle as the majority of the borg marched on – not running, but managing to move very quickly as the Hunter’s crew sprinted out ahead of them.   
Within about 200 yards, first Napoleon on his mount, then the seven crew members following him, came to a five-way intersection. Napoleon and Buddy – way out in front – turned down one of these corridors only to turn back toward the Hunter’s crew.   
“Not that way!” Napoleon yelled as a line of borg advanced from that corridor. The other three corridors were filled with romulans – swords drawn – also approaching in mass formation. 

“Why aren’t they shooting?” asked the terrified Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon.  
Dr. Jazz Sam Sinder answered, “The borg have adapted their energy shields to the romulan disruptors. Their disruptors are useless now. It’s hand-to-hand…”  
“And we’re in the middle of it,” Navigator Johanna Imex observed. “They’re all headed toward us!”  
Buddy whimpered pathetically.  
“I do not want to be here anymore!” bawled Napoleon. “Somebody – anybody – Nine to beam out! Now please!!!”

With a familiar whine and sparkling of lights like a gigantic 1970’s discotheque, the pentagonal five-way corridor hub vanished along with the grim advancing ranks of romulans and borg, to be replaced with an equally chaotic hangar. Romulans and borg were battling in two different areas, both somewhat distant from the main transporter control in the center of the hangar. 

“The emergency door on the back of the nacelle is open,” said Chief Rumi Grace, gesturing toward the U.S.S. Hunter, parked a few dozen meters away. “Hurry!”

Napoleon leapt down from Buddy’s back and quickly unbuckled the saddle. Buddy made the removal of the saddle far more difficult by laying down on his belly, putting his giant, ferociously clawed paws over his eyes and whimpering in terror.  
“Come… On… Buddy…” Napoleon grunted as he tugged the saddle loose from the enormous beast. Once the saddle was free, he walked up to stroke the anaixes’ head and turned toward Midshipman Tammy Brazil. “Can you send him back? This is too much for him. He needs to go home…”  
“I have no idea how to do that,” Brazil complained.  
“I can do it,” said Special Agent Anana Lynarr. “You focus on bringing T’Lon’s group in – they’re next.  
Buddy started to howl, then vanished in a haze of lights.  
“I really hope the borg don’t find his environment,” said Napoleon. “How is it that you’ve been able to work here uninterrupted?”  
Rumi Grace gestured toward ongoing battles in two areas of the hangar. “The romulans are busy.”  
At that moment, a powerful, concentrated beam laced out of one of the other ships in the cargo bay and began cutting the straps that secured the U.S.S. Hunter firmly to the deck. The contact point between the beam and the hardened carbon straps was brighter than a star.   
“Okay,” said Tammy Brazil, “Now I can’t see!”   
Rumi Grace stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder, her hands on Tammy’s shoulders.  
“Keep your eyes closed,” said Rumi.  
“Okay - this is really weird,” said Brazil. She had to keep repositioning her hands as she worked the controls. “I can see the back of my own head, and my hands are really small and in the wrong place.”  
“You’re seeing through my eyes,” Rumi said. “Just focus on which controls you want to operate and your hands will go there…”

21.4


	22. Episode 21.5 - The Enemy of My Enemy: Read Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Kenny Dolphin is alone in romulan space with a ferocious predator who has eaten two of his crew-mates...
> 
>  _“Do you know when we will meet with Tali?” There was a plaintive sound of longing in Mlady’s voice._  
>  _Dolphin took a deep breath, then responded. “We will be at the rendezvous point in five hours and about five minutes. If all has gone well, the Hunter will be there. But…”_  
>  _“I understand,” said Mlady. “I have never eaten ferengi before. It will be very difficult for me to digest..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> My best friend died young of a heart attack in 2006. Losing people is a central part of being human.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 5: Read Later

21.5  
Read Later

Commander Kenneth Dolphin set the autopilot. The tactical unit was on course for the rendezvous point, which was dark space, nothing but a set of coordinates chosen at random from within a field of acceptable options. Four additional backup locations had been prioritized against the possibility of an area becoming compromised by enemy presence or some other compromising event.   
It had been four days since Dolphin had left Lt. Cmdr. Tauk in the maintenance hatch with a starving carnivore. Or was she a parasite? Until now, Dolphin had always managed to set aside his discomfort about Mlady. Now he was having nightmares about her coming out of the maintenance hatch during his sleep. Nightmares about Tauk coming back as a ghost to haunt him. Nightmares about Pep’s enormous mangled, exsanguinated and desiccated corpse.  
Travelling alone through romulan space was unnerving enough. It was worse not knowing what condition Tauk’s remains were in. Or whether the predator who had eaten him had slipped her chains. Dolphin was under no illusion that the lock on the maintenance hatch would present any obstacle to Mlady – the maintenance hatch had not been built to house a wild animal, much less an intelligent predator.

“Commander Dolphin…” The sound of Mlady’s voice over the comm system almost made Dolphin jump out of his skin. He looked about, panicked that she might be on the bridge with him. The maintenance hatch door was still closed. The ship status indicated that she was still in the maintenance hatch.  
“Mlady?” Dolphin responded.  
“I think it is important that you know… Lieutenant Commander Tauk’s heart stopped about five minutes ago. His higher brain functions ended four days ago, about 20 minutes after the two of you last spoke. He felt no pain.”  
Dolphin had no idea what to say to this. It was important for him to know. He had no idea that any part of Tauk’s body would survive so long, but he was aware that Mlady could only consume living blood, living organs. At the first moment of necrosis, blood and tissue was no longer of any use to her.  
“Do you know when we will meet with Tali?” There was a plaintive sound of longing in Mlady’s voice.  
Dolphin took a deep breath, then responded. “We will be at the rendezvous point in five hours and about five minutes. If all has gone well, the Hunter will be there. But…”  
“I understand,” said Mlady. “I have never eaten ferengi before. It will be very difficult for me to digest. I have wrapped Tauk’s remains in his uniform. You should be able to transport them into space. He wanted whatever remains were left to be disintegrated. He left a few things for you.”  
Dolphin had been wondering where the grief had been all this time. Hiding behind a log jam of other emotions – fear, guilt, resentment, anger, disgust – even relief that his friend was finally free of the pain he had been hiding for months. Now was a very inconvenient time for the grief to show up. It overwhelmed him, leaving him unable to speak.  
Mlady was silent for several minutes. Perhaps she could hear or smell. Dolphin put his head in his hands and just tried, unsuccessfully, to hold the waves of emotion back. He hadn’t been raised to display emotion – even alone and he really had no idea how to handle it. 

Once the flood gates were open, more grief came elbowing through – in two years Dolphin had lost a lot of friends. T’Lok Smith. Joey Chin. Lynhart Shran. David Pepper. But somehow Tauk’s loss was the one that really hurt. Young, brilliant, unusually capable, surprisingly likeable – especially for a ferengi – until the endless pain made him hardened and bitter. Even then he had shown a unique ability to recognize and appreciate a moment and draw others into it with him. Somehow, in spite of the many hard calls he had been called on to make and the months of unremitting pain he endured, Tauk had died innocent.

“Commander,” Mlady said softly.  
“Yes, Lieutenant Commander?” Dolphin managed.  
“I am about to enter hibernation. I can hibernate for a very long time. Please do not wake me until Tali is here.”  
Dolphin struggled to regain some semblance of control. But all he could manage was, “Understood.”   
Somehow he could sense Mlady gradually entering hibernation. 

As creepy as warping though romulan space with a deadly predator in the next room less than 10 feet behind him had been, it now felt even creepier to be out here alone. 

Dolphin cast his eye on the reader laying in the seat next to him. He picked it up. Thumbed the control. Two displays came up: “Read Now;” “Read Later.” He sat and looked at it for nearly a full minute, then finally thumbed a control that activated the “Read Later” file.

21.5


	23. Episode 21.6 - The Enemy of My Enemy: Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The U.S.S. Hunter escapes

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 6: Escape

21.6  
Escape

The U.S.S. Hunter was freed from its straps, but it still had no power. The crew inside were feeling their way through a completely darkened vessel. The first thing Justice Minerva Irons did on entering the crawlway in the nacelle housing was find a cabinet where several dozen flashlights were stored – but none of these had any power either. She distributed them anyway.  
Flight Engineer Tomos took the lead. He had spent more time working in the nacelle than pretty much anyone else and knew the number of steps to the stairway that led the way up into the engineering decks. Once the crew were in engineering, most of them were gathered into the engineering conference room and, although they could not see, sorted by department to be counted. Justice Irons led 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves and 2nd Lt. Ethan Phillips up the ladders and though the Jeffries Tubes up to the bridge. Once on the bridge, they were able to see through the viewer – which was only a window now. 

In the mining launch inside the Bestia’s main hangar, Ensign Chelna Zusa was at the control panel for the cutting beams, retargeting after having cut through the straps that had held the U.S.S. Hunter, just a few meters away, strapped firmly to the floor of the hangar.   
Buttans Ngumbo pointed to a large array above the Hunter. “So, do you think that’s the dampening generator?”  
“One way to find out,” said 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui.  
“Targeting the emitter,” said Ensign Zusa.  
She positioned the cutting beam and fired it directly at the array. 

Nothing happened.

“What?” asked Zusa.  
“There’s your answer,” said Lt. Sun. “Try targeting the housing above it.”  
“Aye, sir,” Zusa responded and retargeted the cutting beam. The beam connected solidly with the housing above the emitter array. Within a few minutes, the Hunter suddenly came alive, its navigation screens creating a positive space between the deck of the hangar and the nacelle.

Buttans leaned out of the door and shouted at Special Agent Lynarr: “Anana, I’m coming to you. Can you send Lieutenant Sun and Ensign Zusa to the Hunter?” Buttans swung off the door of the mining launch and slid down the ladder to the deck. As he exited the unit, the alert klaxon started blaring as the main hangar bay doors started to open. A force field kept the atmosphere from venting. Behind him, he could hear the familiar whine of the transporter beam inside the mining launch. Buttans hit the deck running. He stopped to scoop up a disruptor pistol from a dead romulan – and fired it at a living romulan who was coming up behind Anana.  
“Do you have everyone?” Buttans yelled.  
Lynarr looked around her quickly - then, “Yes.”  
“Go – all of you – I’ll cover you.” said Buttans.

When Buttans reached the back of the nacelle, the door into the back of the nacelle was about 5 feet off the deck of the hangar bay. Rume Grace was pushing Anana’s legs, helping her scramble into the doorway, then leapt up after her. At this point the nacelle was nearly 8 feet off the deck. Grace laid down on the floor inside the nacelle, gripping a bar with one hand – reaching out with the other.   
Buttans leapt up and grasped Rume’s hand and scrambled over her up into the nacelle. Once he scrambled inside, he assisted Rume Grace to her feet, then closed the door behind him. “Run! We have to be out of here before they fire up the warp engine!”

21.6


	24. Episode 21.7 - The Enemy of My Enemy: The Wreck of the I.K.V. 'Iw Hov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Commander David Pepper aboard the I.K.V. 'Iw Hov

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 7: The Wreck of the I.K.V. ‘Iw Hov

21.7  
The Wreck of the I.K.V. ‘Iw Hov

Commander Kenneth Dolphin set the reader on the tactical unit’s pilot control console and hooked its readout into the main viewer, but found himself watching the small viewscreen on the reader as much as the main viewer. Commander David Pepper had evidently recorded this message some time before the death message Kenny and Tauk had viewed nearly a week earlier on the asteroid.

“Welcome to the ‘Iw Hov. Sorry for the mess. It’s ironic. I finally get my own command and the captain has to go down with his ship. When I beamed on board to retrieve Mlady, and to make sure our klingon friends didn’t get to keep her, or the gamorlans... Well…. About the mess… You’re just going to have to see this…”  
Pep’s image was replaced by what was clearly ship’s footage of one of the gamorlans, looking up at a security camera. Pep’s voice continued narrating: “Cute, isn’t he? The soft fur ridge around his face… The big sad eyes…” The gamorlan suddenly opened its mouth – wide – exposing a mass of fangs – and lunged at the camera at incredible speed - then the picture cut out. And was replaced by Pep.  
“Yeah, they have claws too. And brains. Our klingon friends beamed five elderly gamorlans onto the ‘Iw Hov and those five cute little old aliens went through 23 klingon warriors like a knife through hot butter. But that wasn’t all. They tore this ship apart, quite literally. Less than half the ship’s systems were operational by the time I made it to the bridge.”  
The image shifted to a view of the bridge of the bird of prey as seen from another security camera. Klingons were shooting wildly at three gamorlans, but the tiny aliens moved almost too fast for the eye to follow. They burrowed through the klingon crew with ruthless speed, then one of them crawled up under the pilot’s station and started dismantling it, taking a number of electric shocks that would have killed a full grown klingon.  
“These little guys are so ferocious that Mlady had to lock herself in the brig just to get away from them. It’s important to remember these little creeps drove themselves into extinction over religious differences. I suspect they would have been even more intolerant of other species. From the technology I observed, I think they were about a hundred years or less from developing faster than light travel. I could say I’m sad they didn’t make it – but I would be lying. I think the galaxy dodged a big one when these guys snuffed themselves out.”   
“So anyway, one of them was already dead when I beamed onboard. I killed three more of them and took command of the ship. There were two surviving klingon crewmembers – Udrus Rorger and Avor Firshok. I had vented most of the ship’s atmosphere and the warp drive was offline. But the cloaking device was operational, so I was able to land the ‘Iw Hov inside one of the damaged decks of that enormous romulan battlegod, the Fero, just before they went to warp. I was hoping to resupply, but we still had a live gamorlan on board and something it did caused the cloak to go on the fritz.”  
“I was only able to resupply our atmosphere and we jumped off the Fero as they were passing this solar system. Which left us in the outer asteroid belt. Udrus and Avor were doing their best to keep up with the gamorlan, but there was no way they could make repairs as fast as he was tearing things up. They caught up with him in the port wing. Here’s what the internal sensors picked up…”

The viewer displayed part of a corridor leading to an access hatch. A female klingon staggered into the picture, trying to dislodge a ferocious furry creature from her chest. His fangs were able to penetrate her armor and he bit her neck viciously, then turned around as she fell to the deck, ready to pounce. A disrupter beam passed through his head and sparked on an EPS conduit in the wall behind him, causing a series of explosions. A large hole opened, then the entire corridor was open to space, blowing out the bodies of the dead gamorlan, the dead klingon and another klingon who was still alive… but evidently not for long. Shortly after she was blown out of the breach, the wing section that had broken off tumbled back into view and the nacelle attached to the end of the wing exploded, causing the camera to go dark.

David Pepper’s face returned to the screen. “And that was the last gasp for the I.K.V. ‘Iw Hov. We tumbled without power for any system except life support for six hours. It was extremely uncomfortable because the inertial dampener was offline. So imagine spinning at about 1.4 G. For six hours. Until we finally hit one of the asteroids. At which point we lost life support. My legs are crushed. I would have died two days ago except for Mlady. I plan to record another file to provide instructions on how to safely handle her since she will soon enter hibernation. It has been a good run.”  
“When I was a child I read all the heroic klingon poetry I could get my hands on. I always wanted to captain a klingon bird of prey. These are legendary ships of adventure. When I was working on my doctorate, I spent five years with the klingons, serving on their ships, living on their homeworld, the most egalitarian people I ever knew until I came to serve on the U.S.S. Hunter. Do not mourn for me. I have had an amazing life. Take care of Mlady for me. This is Commander Dave… No… Captain David Pepper of the I.K.V. ‘Iw Hov, signing off. Heghlu’meH QaQ javjam!”

As the image of his late first officer vanished and the screen went dark, Kenny Dolphin found himself, inexplicably, smiling, laughing and weeping simultaneously. It was a silent laugh, not a response to humor, but a recognition of triumph. Something magnificent had passed through the universe – and he had left his mark.

_* Heghlu’ meH QaQ jajvam! (Today is a good day to die!)_

21.7


	25. Episode 21.8 - The Enemy of My Enemy: A Big Enough Lever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The U.S.S. Ark, Star Fleet's first planetary rescue vessel, is nearing completion. And it is a frightening advance in starship technology...
> 
>  _“Emperor,” said Ushi Irons, “What kind of people do you think we are?”_  
>  _“You misapprehend my concern, Council Leader,” said the andorian emperor. “I am not concerned about the kind of people that we are. I am concerned about the kind of people that we might be tempted to become…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> We will get a lot more about the Ark near the end of the story.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 8: A Big Enough Lever

21.8  
A Big Enough Lever

The U.S.S. Ark was nearing completion. The first Star Fleet vessel to be commissioned for construction entirely outside of the human homeworld solar system, its commission number was NBWC 1001. It was being built in the Bolarus system, and its construction had been kept very, very quiet. Just as the development of Earth’s first generation of faster-than-light ships had brought humans and vulcans into a close relationship, the development of the Ark was bringing humans and bolians into a much closer relationship.  
The design was reminiscent of the classic double-hulled Star Fleet design – with two significant exceptions: The Ark had five hulls – and they were enormous beyond imagination. Instead of one saucer section, there were four, attached above and beneath an enormous, roughly cigar-shaped engineering hull front and rear. Six wings radiated from the center of the engineering hull, each supporting nacelles that were themselves each more than twice the size of an engineering hull for the old galaxy class starships, but looked hopelessly small compared to the enormous saucer sections they had to move.   
The ship seemed to have no front or rear or top or bottom – the engineering hull supported two bridges on opposite ends and opposite poles of the engineering hull. Each saucer section also supported a bridge, in the traditional location at the top.

The U.S.S. Victory, a Galaxy class starship, drifted between two of the saucer sections, entirely dwarfed by them. A unique group of dignitaries stood on the observation deck, inspecting the work in progress.  
“It’s a push-me, pull-you,” observed Federation President Maria Rodriguez. “Why is it designed with such a strange configuration?”  
Federation Council Leader Ushi Irons put his hand on the shoulder of a very large, elderly bolian. The latter cleared his throat loudly, drawing the attention of everyone present.  
“The U.S.S. Ark uses a modular design,” said Web Planning Commissioner Xagg Boles – with an odd emphasis on the word ‘Ark’. “It may surprise you that the Ark is designed for stable flight at warp 9.95. Believe me, it surprises me. We plan ultimately to build three sister ships to the Ark. Any of the four primary hulls can attach to any of the four primary hull ports on the engineering hull and will, once the entire line is created, be interchangeable with any of its sister ships.”  
WP Commissioner Boles gestured toward one of the enormous, saucer-shaped primary hulls. “Each primary hull is capable of independent travel at up to warp 4. These ships are being created for major planetary rescue missions. Three primary hulls could be placed in orbit to conduct stabilization and rescue missions while the fourth could remain attached to the engineering hull to take an initial planning and preparation group to refugee location. That primary hull could be left in orbit to prepare the location for a massive influx of refugees, freeing the engineering hull to return to the disaster location and pick up the other primary hulls as they fill up and are ready for evacuation. The engineering hull is bidirectional to allow it to quickly reverse, saving hours of travel in case of emergency. This also builds resiliency into the system. The engineering hull can sustain a tremendous amount of damage and continue to be fully functional as all functions are at least duplicated and in most cases quadrupled in very remote locations.”  
“The Ark appears to be quite well protected,” intoned Emperor Sin IV. “I see evidence of hundreds of interceptor ports. And both the engineering and primary hulls appear to have some extremely large phaser cannon as well as no small number of torpedo tubes. Why all the firepower, Commissioner?”  
WP Commissioner Boles shifted uncomfortably. “That was a requirement from Star Fleet. I think I should defer to the Commandant…”  
Star Fleet Commandant Barrett th’Zoarhi spoke up. “One of the most prevalent and dangerous byproducts of natural disasters is war, Emperor. We anticipate pressures that may cause us to need to move populations under duress…”  
“It appeals to me,” the emperor interrupted, “that we have recently learned a harsh lesson in the value of superplanets – planets like Earth and Bajor that are exceptionally fertile worlds – abundant with life. With the destruction of the greatest superplanet in this part of space, Romulus, we learned how fragile our coalition is and how vital superplanets are to us. And there are no less than five superplanets within the federation that are homes to protected populations. How do you put it? Innocents – those who have not yet developed faster than light travel. It appeals to me that such a mobile space station as the Ark would be perfectly suited for removing these populations from their exceptionally fertile worlds against their will.”  
“If we were such a people, why bother moving them at all?” Chief Justice Julian Bashir’s cultured British accent caught everyone’s attention. “If we were such people, we would not need the Ark for that. One ship like this one that we are standing on now would be easily sufficient to enslave a planetary population and cause them and their planet to produce for us.”

A combined shiver ran through the various dignitaries at hearing the Chief Justice describe such harsh eventuality in his trademark suave tones. 

Emperor Sin IV turned his blind eyes toward Bashir. “It also appeals to me that this flying fortress could carry vast amounts of soil and, either with or without the consent of the rescued, pluck an entire world, from the topsoil to the dominant species from the claw of an enemy. Such a world might then be transplanted into the Federation…”  
“Emperor,” said Ushi Irons, “What kind of people do you think we are?”  
“You misapprehend my concern, Council Leader,” said the andorian emperor. “I am not concerned about the kind of people that we are. I am concerned about the kind of people that we might be tempted to become…”

21.8


	26. Episode 21.9 - The Enemy of My Enemy: The Second Cube

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The U.S.S. Hunter makes good its escape from the mammoth I.R.W. Bestia - only to face the even larger borg cubes that are attacking the romulans...
> 
>  _“Ethan, there are two borg cubes out there. I want you to get me a solution on the second cube,” said Irons. “All hands, brace for QuickQuiet – Boles, Gamor and Alstars to the bridge..."_  
>  _“Get me a firing solution on that second cube!” Sela ordered..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> This is another turning point in Justice Minerva Irons' story arc...  
> .

Star Trek Hunter  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 9: The Second Cube

21.9  
The Second Cube

“We have power!” 2nd Lt. Ethan Phillips exclaimed.  
“Tali – do we have all hands on board?” asked Irons.  
Dr. Tali Shae’s voice came to the bridge across the comm system: “We’re missing Lynarr, Grace and Butt.. wait – they just came up out of the nacelle – we have everyone. Go!”  
“Ethan – get us out of here!” Irons ordered.  
Phillips was already taking off from the hangar bay. The doors were starting to close again as the U.S.S. Hunter slipped through.  
“Your honor,” said 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves. “On the wall…”  
Irons turned to see a section of the wall near her office door now had Chinese script engraved on it.   
“Reeves, there are two borg cubes out there. I want you to get me a solution on the second cube,” said Irons. “All hands, brace for QuickQuiet – Boles, Gamor and Alstars to the bridge. Ethan – we need to be out of range of the romulan tractor beam. A quick burst on full impulse, then use the thrusters to give us a little tumble.”  
The sudden jolt from the impulse engine felt different from the feeling of warp drive in the deckplates. It only lasted a few moments. A quick hit from the port thrusters and the Hunter veered off to port just as the ship went dark from the QuickQuiet order.  
Because the lights had been off throughout the ship for several days and had only been on for a few minutes before being shut off again, the luminescent wall panels had almost no energy to reflect back into the hallways. The interior of the ship quickly became pitch black with the exception of a few monitors. 

“We had to take to the Jeffries Tubes,” said Lt. Gaia Gamor, walking onto the bridge.  
“Bloody uncomfortable, cramped things, no bloody light,” added Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars as he followed her in.  
“Language, Geoff…” said Boles, bringing up the rear.  
“You’re not the one with the jolly lumps about the forehead,” Alstars groused.  
“Gaia, take navigation,” said Justice Irons. “Mr. Alstars, join Lieutenant Tolon at tactical. It appears our resident borg left a message. There are two borg cubes out there. Neither is in good shape at the moment. The one that is more complete is keeping the romulans away from the second cube. Command and control is coming from the second cube. The last thing we need at this moment is an active borg invasion in romulan space. So how do we take out the second cube?”  
“With the Hunter?” asked Lt. Tolon. “Even if that ship is as badly damaged as it appears to be, we don’t have enough in the way of weapons to even tickle it.”  
“Can you display passive sensor readings?” asked Lieutenant Boles. “I’d like to see how big those holes are. Do any of them go straight through?”  
Justice Irons spoke up. “Do you really think they would let us do to them what we did to Gamorlan?”  
“If we set the trajectory and then go completely dark.. Just a tiny piece of debris drifting through…” said Boles.   
“I’ve got something that might work,” said Lt. Tolon. “We’ll have to take a 20 degree turn about three-quarters of the way through.”  
“Send the coordinates and configuration to Gaia,” said Boles. “Alstars, get with Gaia and work out a passive solution. See if you can get us headed straight through that opening. When we come to the turn, we’ll reorient with impulse and at the same time go to warp 2.2 – that should create enough of a warp shell to rip them open but not so big that we can’t break out. Geoff – I need you to verify my math on the warp factor.”  
“I’ve already done the math,” Ensign Alstars responded. “You had a good rough guess, but I think we can risk 2.218.”  
“Your honor?” asked Boles.   
Justice Minerva Irons stood up and gestured to the captain’s chair she had just vacated. “It’s your mission, Mr. Boles. Take command…”

\- * - 

Hundeeth spotted something flashing on his console. He hit a control, then turned to Sela: “Supreme Commander, the main hangar bay door is opening!”  
“We don’t have time for this Hundeeth – get it closed!”  
“I have sent the override command, but the U.S.S. Hunter is already exiting.”   
“Good,” said Supreme Commander Sela. “I will want a complete analysis of how they escaped, complete telemetry from the hangar bay. We’ll have time to review that later. Now I need you to get me a firing solution on that second cube!” Sela ordered.   
“What is so important about the second cube?” Centurion Cireeka asked quietly of an officer next to her.  
“They’re not shooting at us.”  
“Exactly,” said Commander Hundeeth. “They’re hiding behind the first cube. That suggests command and control. These borg are in really bad shape – both ships...”

While Hundeeth and Cireeka were busy targeting the borg cubes, Sela turned her attention to the admiral of the first fleet. "How are we handling the borg landing parties?”  
“Better than three for one,” Admiral Ekot replied. “The sword and shield training has paid off.”   
“Not well enough if we’re losing one for every three of them we kill,” said Sela. “We need to improve both training and…”  
At that moment an enormous explosion could be seen behind the borg cube that the Bestia was engaged with.  
Commander Hundeeth checked his readings. “Borg landing parties are exiting. They’re taking everything they brought.”  
“How did we get the second cube?” asked Sela.  
“We didn’t,” said Hundeeth. “The Hunter did. The first cube is withdrawing.”  
“No they don’t! They do not leave our space! Take them apart!” Sela ordered. “Follow and destroy. Leave some probes and a landing unit here to find out how Star Fleet destroyed that 2nd cube…” 

21.9


	27. Episode 21.10 - The Enemy of My Enemy: The Fourth Signal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Lt. Cmdr. Mlady has re-entered hibernation - which triggers the program Dr. Carrera added to her communicator to emit a powerful locator beacon pulse...
> 
>  _It started with the stomach pumping – which included deep cleaning of every part of each crewmember’s digestive system to include such organs as intestines, livers and kidneys. It was an extremely uncomfortable, inconvenient and, in most cases, completely humiliating experience..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Of course Sela let the Hunter escape...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 10: The Fourth Signal

21.10  
The Fourth Signal

“I need more, Doctor Moon…” 2nd Officer Napoleon Boles was frustrated. His Director of Engineering was refusing to certify the U.S.S. Hunter for recursive warp (zip drive) because the mass of the hull was out of tolerance by a few kilograms. “Hunter…” Boles looked about the bridge.  
The ship’s interactive holographic avatar appeared in his preferred location behind the navigator’s station. “Lieutenant Boles…”  
“Could the romulans have attached something to your hull while you were powered down?”  
“I am not finding any irregularities…”  
“Scan your hull down to the micron. Could they have… I don’t know… sprayed on some sort of film?”  
“Scanning…” said Hunter and promptly vanished. A moment later the avatar reappeared. “Confirmed. With the exception of the underside of the nacelle, I am finding a new layer of material approximately four microns deep that has been applied to the hull.”  
“Geoff,” said Boles, “Get down to engineering. Work with Hunter and your department to identify the substance and determine how to safely remove it.”  
“I’ll go get a chisel…” Alstars groused.  
“Get a helmet,” Boles suggested. “Lieutenant Gamor, are we anywhere near an asteroid field or any debris field we can hide in?”  
“Our closest option is to return to the scene of the battle,” Lt. Gamor replied. “Sensors show the Bestia left in pursuit of the remaining cube.”  
“They might have left some assets to protect the resources left by the borg,” Boles mused. “Next?”  
“A gas cloud about 2.3 light years distant and a brown dwarf system just under 4 light years away,” Gamor said.  
“The gas cloud would be an attractive hiding place for pirates – which makes me think there might be a warbird lurking in it. How long to the brown dwarf at warp 8?”  
“Just under a day and a half,” Gamor responded.  
“Find me a rock between here and there to hide on for a few hours so we can scrape the hull,” said Lt. Boles. “You have the con. I will be in medical.”  
“Are you all right, sir?” Gamor asked.  
“None of us are, Lieutenant. If the romulans spray painted our hull with something, what do you want to bet they did the same to our stomach linings? They also ran us through their transporter, which means they have the precise frequencies for each of our internal communicators. Who knows what else they have done to us? I knew that escape was far too easy...” Boles was already near the exit to the bridge. “Special Agent Lynarr, this is Napoleon Boles. Meet me in medical…”

\- * - 

Commander Kenneth Dolphin was startled out of a deep sleep. He had stationed the Hunter’s tactical unit at the rendezvous point and gone dark – reducing power output to minimal life support in an attempt to go unseen in dark space. Something had set off a signal alert.   
“What was that?” he asked of no one in particular, since he was alone. He scanned the control panels in front of him. An indicator was flashing on the navigation/tactical panel next to him. Dolphin leaned over, touched a control, read the display.  
“Shit!”  
“I believe you would chide any of your crewmembers for such language,” came a familiar voice.  
Dolphin was nearly startled out of his wits. “Hunter?”  
“Hunter Tactical,” came the response. “I have been here all along. You seem to be somewhat anxious. You do remember Dr. Kim and I are both here.”  
“Thanks, Hunter,” Dolphin said. Then: “Mlady’s communicator is sending out her hibernation signal again. That’s going to bring romulans here. We can’t stay here. Bring the engine online and get ready for recursive warp – we’re on the move…”

\- * - 

It started with the stomach pumping – which included deep cleaning of every part of each crewmember’s digestive system to include such organs as intestines, livers and kidneys. It was an extremely uncomfortable, inconvenient and, in most cases, completely humiliating experience. Everyone onboard had to go through it except Special Agent Anana Lynarr and Hugh Mann (who was once again dormant in his recharging alcove in the captain’s office.)  
Of the U.S.S. Hunter’s crew, only Lynarr had not eaten romulan food – which, it turned out, had been laced with very low levels of a radio-isotope of iridium that would eventually have done long-term damage to the Hunter’s crew members. A similar isotope of iridium-oxide was found to have been sprayed onto the ship’s hull. For good measure, Lt. Napoleon Boles ordered each crewmember’s internal communicator removed, destroyed and replaced with a new communicator tuned to a new unique frequency.  
Initial attempts to remove the isotope from the Hunter’s hull using the transporter verified that the isotope would contaminate the transporter system – as Midshipman Tammy Brazil had warned. Decontamination of even a small amount from the cargo bay transporter took nearly three hours and further attempts to use the transporter for iridium-oxide removal were abandoned.   
In desperation, Boles finally ordered the iridium-oxide isotope layer burned off with hand phasers, which required a dozen crew members in full EVA suits to walk on the outside of the ship, setting the volatile iridium-oxide isotope on fire with sustained phaser blasts. This created a surreal vision of a dozen people in space suits setting fire to a flaming ship while they walked on its hull, but each fire only lasted a few seconds as the metal and oxygen separated and burned away more oxides leeched from the surface of the Hunter’s hull, leaving a fine haze of elemental iridium and trace aluminum which could then be collected with an improvised tool that looked like a vacuum cleaner, but based on gravity plating.  
All of the isotopic iridium that had been removed from the surface of the ship and the digestive systems of its crew was gathered and lumped into two small spheres roughly the size of golf balls. With the rest of the crew watching images transmitted back by remote cameras, Lt. Napoleon Boles, Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq and Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars, once again clad in EVA suits, clambered out onto the outer hull of U.S.S. Hunter. Boles carried the iridium golf balls. Alstars and zh’Qaoleq each carried a golf club.  
Boles set each ball ¾ of an inch above Hunter’s hull, where, due to inertia, they remained. Alstars took the first swing, launching an iridium isotope ball into dark space. Without a moment’s hesitation and using only one hand, Thyssi zh’Qaoleq set the second iridium ball on a nearly parallel course.   
As the three crew members (and two remote cameras) re-entered the Hunter, Boles received a call from the bridge: “Dr. Boles, this is Lt. T’Lon. We just received a fourth hibernation beacon from Mlady’s communicator…”

21.10


	28. Episode 21.11 - The Enemy of My Enemy: Prometheosaurus Rex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Meanwhile, the Doctor has developed very interesting new abilities. He will need them soon...
> 
>  _A creature from another era – from another planet – from another galaxy – inexplicably stalked its prey on this most boring of worlds. A nightmare monster – so much the king of beasts that the word king was in its very name. Twice..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I knew I had something big in store for the Doctor. I just finished writing Episode 26 - Rain Over Rising Sun. And now I have figured out what is in store for one of my favorite characters in the Star Trek universe...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 11: Prometheosaurus Rex

21.11  
Prometheosaurus Rex

A creature from another era – from another planet – from another galaxy – inexplicably stalked its prey on this most boring of worlds. A nightmare monster – so much the king of beasts that the word king was in its very name. Twice.   
Enormous, three-clawed feet did not so much walk the ground as grip it against the fourth back-claw. The huge tail, although primarily used for balance, was a battering ram of destruction. But nothing conveyed terror more than its massive head – bright pitiless eyes made even more distinct by dark violet, downy feathering that surrounded them. Massive jaws filled with teeth the size of a grown man’s arm. A sunburst of roughened, ruddy skin around the beast’s mouth – yellow, orange, red, violet – made it appear even larger and more violent.   
Steaming drool dripped from its lips. Each snort sent out a spray of steaming mucous.

Despite its evident weight, it stalked its prey quietly, carefully. The man that it was stalking stood staring ardently in the wrong direction, oblivious to the approach of this most terrible of beasts behind him.   
In triumph, the beast raised itself, filled its lungs with the cold, thin air, opened its cavernous mouth and uttered an ear shattering squack.

SQUACK!!!

It was essentially a gigantic chicken.

Wesley Crusher turned around, looked up at the fearsome beast and burst into uncontrollable laughter.   
The king of kings gazed disapprovingly down at the old, bearded man who was nearly doubled over with mirth, laughing until he could only manage to splutter to a stop.  
“That is gorgeous! Such attention to detail!” Crusher enthused, once he was finally able to regain control over himself. “It’s been a hundred years or more since I laughed so hard! Ah, Doctor, you do not disappoint.”  
The disappointed looking dinosaur shrank to man-size as it transformed smoothly into a disappointed looking holographic doctor. “What gave me away?”  
“Aside from you being right here, right now?” asked Old Man Crusher. “Your emitter. You don’t often see a Prometheosaur with a piece of technology like that on its shoulder.”  
“Tyrannosaurus Rex,” the Doctor corrected, somewhat petulantly.   
“Oh, the detail was astounding, I have to give you that,” Crusher said. “I’ve gone back to look for myself. Even the mighty mating call.”  
“That was a mating call???” the Doctor furrowed his brow like a county road desperately in need of maintenance.  
“That was the mating call.” Crusher confirmed.

There was an awkward silence. Then the Doctor noticed something was missing. He pointed.

“Where is your staff?”  
“On vacation,” Crusher answered.  
“What??” The Doctor turned his head and squinted, trying to work out what relationship, if any, Old Man Crusher’s answer had to his question. He cupped his hand as if holding a walking stick. Moved his hand up and down a few times. “No, your staff, where is it?”  
“On vacation,” Crusher responded again.  
“No, no, no, I mean…” The Doctor moved his hand up and down faster.  
“There’s no need to be indelicate, Doctor,” said Crusher. “I may be an old man, but the plumbing still works just fine.”  
“What??? What are you??” The Doctor shook his head in frustration. “No! The thing you lean on!!”  
“My staff?” asked Old Man Crusher.  
“Yes!!”  
“They’re on…”  
“Don’t tell me… They’re on vacation,” the Doctor said, then sighed heavily.  
“Well, you can’t expect them to hang around all the time without a break, can you?” Crusher observed. “Interesting lot they are. They started out as a rather chatty miniature deciduous forest. I’ve taken them all over the universe, but every once in a while they just want to hang out at a beach somewhere. I’ll introduce you properly when they get back. In the meantime, it’s time for us to go meet the Captain. For reasons having strictly to do with chain of command, he’s kind of stuck in his original timeline…”

21.11


	29. Episode 21.12 - The Enemy of My Enemy: The Next Generation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Sela, the Supreme Commander of the Romulan Star Navy and unquestioned head of state for the empire, confers with her top admirals about the new generation of Star Fleet ships. And later, with a small circle of trusted advisors, explores a new generation of Romulan Ale.
> 
>  _Sela took another long drink, leaned back in her chair... “They frighten me deeply, these humans. For all their protestations about loving life, they have brought so much death to our home. They expand their territory like the borg, but in slow motion. Soft borg. Pretty borg. Friendly borg. Assimilating everything and everyone in their path. Gradually homogenizing as they go. And they protect each territorial gain with the ferocity of a wounded anaixes protecting her cubs. They are so ready to destroy anything that isn’t them...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> With Sela there is a little bit of the pot calling the kettle cookware...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 12: The Next Generation

21.12  
The Next Generation

Supreme Commander Sela had gathered the commanders of the first fleet along with Admiral Ekot and Commander Hundeeth. A few other lower ranking officers were also in attendance – those whose specialties could provide insights the commanders might need.

“Now we have confirmation that it was a swaeshaeul that has been operating in romulan space,” said Sela. “And we have learned some very valuable things about these small ships. Hundeeth:”  
“Given our scans of the ship’s outer skin, it does not require a cloaking device to be extremely stealthy,” opined Commander Hundeeth. “The fabric of the skin absorbs some scans, fractures and refracts others. Additionally, dozens of independent passive systems make penetration of that skin with scans, transporter beams, even malware exceptionally difficult.”  
“We have applied a layer of iridium to the outer hull of this vessel which will greatly reduce these effects,” Hundeeth continued.   
“Assuming the Hunter’s crew do not find that iridium and remove it,” remarked Centurion Cireeka.  
Commander Hundeeth smiled grimly. “I would never make such an assumption. The only safe way to remove the iridium would be to use a transporter. But this would damage the transporter system so thoroughly that they are more likely to burn it off, which will leave microfractures in the skin which can be penetrated with scans.”  
“And it is on this basis that you allowed them to escape?” asked Commander Thutuk of the I.R.W. Pistris. “The hope that you might weaken their ship enough that on the off chance we find them again that we can scan the interior or upload a virus?”  
Supreme Commander Sela smiled. “I had no intention of preventing their escape. They are far more valuable to me no longer in custody. I have the most solid evidence I need of their presence here – telemetry of their ship in my hangar. In my custody, they would be a liability. An unnecessary fight with the Federation. Now, although they do not yet know it, they provide me leverage with the Federation. Leverage that I intend to us them for very soon. But we learned something far, far more important about the Federation by their escape.”

“Morality,” said Admiral Ekot.

“Precisely,” said Sela. “Those vaunted Federation morals, cornerstone of the Khitomer Accords, fascinating charm that holds the Klingon Empire at bay, the bauble they dangle before the Senate of New Romulus on Vulcan to seduce the more educated part of our culture away from us, the very glue that holds that motley cabal of species enthralled to the humans – their morality – which we now know to be a sham!” Sela emphasized her conclusion with her fist on the table.  
“Respect for the sovereign rights for all sentient beings,” Sela continued, with a sneer of contempt. “Except when it is inconvenient for them. There is a borg whistle on that swaeshaeul and somebody blew it loud and hard. When the Hunter was captured, whether they knew it or not, the borg came to save that crew. And how did our oh-so-just-and-moral semi-human friends re-pay their liberators? By slaughtering them in the millions! They destroyed an entire borg cube to cover their own escape. And we now know that same swaeshaeul destroyed an entire planet – a dying world, but one that still had life on it. And they killed well over a thousand romulans in that incident.”  
“Then we should attack!” said another of the commanders in the room.  
“And destroy our advantage?” asked Sela. “We would be the aggressors if we were to attack. The Federation has shown time and again how effective it can be even against the most powerful of aggressors. But they are uniquely vulnerable to victims. Especially to their own victims. That is what gives us leverage and I intend to use that leverage not to take Federation worlds, but to take the Federation apart. Piece by piece.”

Centurion Cireeka looked down at her pad, then up. “Supreme Commander… We just received a fourth beacon signal. We cannot provide exact location, but it is clearly not from the same location we investigated earlier.”  
Sela looked directly at the new commander of the Pistris. “Commander Thutuk – now is your time. That beacon attracts the swaeshaeul – your ghost. Now you are to be the wraith. Follow, observe, probe. Attempt to upload the programming that Hundeeth has provided you. But do not let them know you are there!”  
  


A few hours after the meeting had adjourned, Sela, Hundeeth and Ekot were in a corner of the Supreme Commander’s office on the Bestia. Centurion Cireeka found herself surprised to have been included in this very tight inner circle. A bottle containing a pale blue fluid sat on a table between the four romulan officers.  
“The ferengi have valued this,” Sela leaned forward, lightly tapped the top of the bottle, “so highly that one bottle of romulan ale is the equivalent of a fully armed ship. And this is not the original. This is the next generation of romulan ale, cultivated at our own roat farms, right here on the Bestia. If our mixed up friends from the Federation truly valued life, they could have stayed on their museum roat farm and learned how to grow, reap, mash and ferment one of the most valuable commodities in the Alpha Quadrant.”  
Sela opened the bottle and the aroma of a new generation of romulan ale wafted through this corner of her office. She picked up a small box and removed a match – lit the match and held it so that the fire became brighter, stronger – then dropped it into the bottle. The match continued to burn as it dropped through the liquid, causing the ale to bubble slightly before the match burned itself out in the bottom of the bottle.  
“Humans value romulan ale very highly, but they do not know how to properly enjoy it. They never take the time to learn things thoroughly. They think they appreciate other cultures. They don’t even know enough to appreciate their own.”  
Sela poured a glass of ale, then handed the filled glass and the bottle to Cireeka.   
“Thank you, Supreme Commander,” said Cireeka. She set the filled glass in front of her, then poured a glass and handed the newly filled glass and the bottle to Admiral Ekot, who was sitting next to her.  
Ekot, in turn, accepted the glass Cireeka had filled for him and filled a glass for Hundeeth, who, in turn filled a glass for Sela.  
“Sometimes,” said Sela, lifting her glass, “I fear we are tempted to become too much like them.” She raised her glass first to Cireeka, then to Ekot, then to Hundeeth. “From stars to our blood: wisdom, strength, life.” She held her glass of ale under her nose, inhaled appreciatively, three times. The others followed suit. Then, in unison, they each took a long drink.  
“This ship, this battlegod, is a life force,” Sela mused. “The lynchpin in our conservation efforts. It carries the soil of more than a dozen worlds. More than a hundred farms. Twenty forests and a dozen other wildlife reserves. All that remains of two biologically unique oceans from two different worlds. And the humans have only just begun to include small parks and greenways in their largest ships. But look what they have built the most of – those little black ships. Reports are they had planned to build a hundred of them. They’re still building about 40 or so. And they are a death force. Just one of those little black ships destroyed a borg cube… tore a hole in the I.R.W. Fero… destroyed a living planet. To be fair, it was a dying planet, but we had not yet mined all the life off of it.” 

Sela took another long drink, leaned back in her chair. Hundeeth, Cireeka and Ekot were simply listening.   
“They frighten me deeply, these humans. For all their protestations about loving life, they have brought so much death to our home. They expand their territory like the borg, but in slow motion. Soft borg. Pretty borg. Friendly borg. Assimilating everything and everyone in their path. Gradually homogenizing as they go. And they protect each territorial gain with the ferocity of a wounded anaixes protecting her cubs. They are so ready to destroy anything that isn’t them.”

“Perhaps we should drink to New Romulus on Vulcan,” suggested Admiral Ekot.

“Yes,” said Sela. “A drink for New Romulus on Vulcan.” She drained her glass and set it down. “Their latest victim.”

21.12


	30. Episode 21.13 - The Enemy of My Enemy: Dolphin Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> With Mlady's communicator sending beacon signals again, the U.S.S. Hunter's crew have to puzzle out what Commander Dolphin is likely to do in order to elude the romulans but be found by the Hunter.
> 
>  _Napoleon Boles did not look up. “You should tell them the truth, Tali,” he said, quietly. “They need time to accept it.” He looked at her. “Assuming we get Mlady back, everyone needs time to accept it.”_  
>  _Tali looked down, her face a mask of grief. She took a ragged breath. Looked at Napoleon’s blue hands – then back at her own – a much lighter shade of blue. “You tell them, Boles,” she managed..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I like showing the crew solving practical problems. Hopefully this one isn't too arcane for the reader.
> 
> But this is also an emotional scene in which Dr. Tali Shae and Dr. Napoleon Boles reveal to the others that one of their crew members has eaten another of their crew members...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 13: Dolphin Hunting

21.13  
Dolphin Hunting

“So where do we start to look for Commander Kenneth Dolphin?” Justice Minerva Irons had convened a strategy session in the executive conference room. She was weak from her recent stroke and in pain from her cracked ribs. Her acting first officer, Dr. Tali Shae, and acting second officer, Lt. Napoleon Boles, were present along with Flight Operations Director, Lt. Gaia Gamor, her assistant director, 2nd Lt. Ethan Phillips, navigators Johanna Imex and Eli Strahl, Ensign Chelna Zusa, and the pilots: Dewayne Guth, Thyssi zh’Qaoleq, Winnifreid Salazaar and Dih Terri.

“According to our telemetry,” started Navigator Strahl, “if he was not at rendezvous point #1, he must have been close to it when the beacon transmitted.”  
“Which he knows will attract the romulans,” continued Lt. Gamor, “so we can rule out RP#1 – that’s pretty much the last place we would find him. If we go there, we will be warping into a hornet’s nest of romulan warbirds.”  
“Why not RP#2 then?” asked 2nd Lt. Phillips.  
“Because he knows when the second transmission will occur, but he does not know when we will be able to meet him,” Gamor answered. “We are assuming he has Mlady and that she has re-entered hibernation?”  
Dr. Tali Shae nodded, her antennae almost comically moving in opposition to her head movement, creating the effect of the top of her antennae remaining in the same location. “As soon as she has fed, she will re-enter hibernation until she is reunited with us. Unfortunately, that means that Pep is not with her. If he were, she would not need to hibernate.”

“Do you think that means that Pep is… That he didn’t make it?” asked Gamor.  
“All that we know that it means is that he didn’t make it back onboard the tactical unit,” said Irons. “Beyond that, we should avoid speculation and stick with what the evidence indicates. David is not with Lieutenant Commander Mlady. That is a reasonable assumption.”

“If I know Kenny,” Gamor said, “he will want to throw the romulans off our trail, which means he is likely to avoid a rendezvous until after the third beacon transmission.”  
“Dolphin has an orderly mind,” Boles observed. “He is likely to use the five established rendezvous points to simultaneously confound the romulans and communicate with us. Assume, for the moment, that he waits at any of the four remaining rendezvous points until the second transmission, would we be able to determine which of those points he was at when the beacon issued the second transmission?”  
“Easily,” Gamor responded.  
“Okay,” Boles continued, “Now assume the romulans are somewhere near RP#1. Are the other four points far enough from RP#1 that the romulans would not be able to determine where the second transmission was coming from?”  
“That is a much harder question,” said Navigator Johanna Imex. “It depends in part on how accurate their sensory equipment is..”  
“Assume it is as good as the best Star Fleet has,” Boles prompted.  
“That would get them fairly close,” Imex replied, “but it would still take them awhile to get there – even to RP#4, which would be the closest to RP#1. I think I see what you’re getting at, though. We could project, mathematically, how much time it would take for the romulans to get from one rendezvous point to another, which means he could, or at least Lieutenant Commander Tauk could. We could then project a course of action that would keep the romulans at the maximum distance from him, which would result in him waiting for us at the remaining point that would be farthest from the romulans…”  
“You’re thinking like a navigator,” Boles said. “Commander Dolphin is a fighter pilot. He’s going to approach this problem differently – the way a fighter pilot would.”  
Flight Specialist Dih Terri said, “Kenny really respects Tauk – he would listen to any plan Tauk comes up with.”

Lt. Napoleon Boles looked down.  
Dr. Tali Shae shook her head – her antennae moving the opposite direction. “Lieutenant Commander Tauk won’t be coming up with any plans.”  
Everyone in the room looked at her with the exception of Napoleon Boles.  
Tali took a breath, then continued. “This was Tauk’s last mission. He knew he didn’t have long to live. Even if he is still alive, and I sincerely doubt that he is, he would probably be unable to do anything at this point but sedate himself against the pain. He wouldn’t be able to think clearly enough to come up with a plan and Dolphin wouldn’t ask him to.”  
Napoleon Boles did not look up. “You should tell them the truth, Tali,” he said, quietly. “They need time to accept it.” He looked at her. “Assuming we get Mlady back, everyone needs time to accept it.”  
Tali looked down, her face a mask of grief. She took a ragged breath. Looked at Napoleon’s blue hands – then back at her own – a much lighter shade of blue. “You tell them, Boles,” she managed.

Napoleon Boles ran a blue hand over his dark blue scalp, squeezed the back of his own neck. Took a deep breath. Everyone except Tali was looking at him expectantly. “Lieutenant Commander Tauk went on this mission to save Mlady. She would have needed to consume all of his blood, his heart and probably more on coming out of hibernation. The fact that she has re-entered hibernation and triggered the beacon again strongly indicates Tauk was successful in his mission. This was his mission. His plan. His idea. He came to me and Tali with it. I don’t think I can adequately explain to you just how much pain that little ferengi was in. If she took his life, it was a mercy – a mercy he went out there to find.”

Chief Flight Specialist Dewayne Guth spoke up: “Did he know? Kenny – did he know?”  
“I don’t think so,” said Boles. “He trusted Tauk. He took Tauk’s plan on faith because Tauk asked him to.”

“He’s going to think like a Star Fleet Captain, not a fighter pilot,” said Thyssi zh’Qaoleq.  
All eyes turned toward the ship’s newest pilot. Tali looked up at her fellow andorian.  
Thyssi’s right antenna stretched up first, then her left. “Kenny Dolphin – he’s going to think about this ship, not just the tactical unit. His goal will be to put the romulans as far off our trail as possible. We want to go home. RP#4 is the closest of the five points to Federation space. He will try to put the romulans as far from RP#4 as he can, then meet us there. That means he should go to RP#3 and stay there until the 2nd signal, then RP#2 to wait to broadcast the 3rd signal. If he goes to those two in that order, which we should be able to verify from telemetry, then he will be signaling us he plans to meet us at RP#4. We should wait at RP#5 until we can verify what he is doing.”  
“And what if he is waiting for us at RP#5 when we get there?” asked Ensign Chelna Zusa.  
Justice Irons answered. “We reattach the tactical unit and hot-foot it home…”

21.13


	31. Episode 21.14 - The Enemy of My Enemy: Truth Seekers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic calls his followers to service as citizen-journalists and sets them to find and publish the truth about the conspiracies that threaten the Federation.
> 
>  _“My father said they were traitors and they deserved what they got. So what did he do? My father started a newspaper. An actual, printed ink on paper newspaper..."_  
>  _“...I want you to become a truth seeker. Whether you farm or move goods or serve in Star Fleet or just sit on the beach – I am asking you to open your eyes. Find the truth – do not assume you know the truth – find it for yourself. And then let other people know. Build a channel. Start a discussion group. Or even print a newspaper..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> We have had any number of small fry politicians turn pundit. I'm interested in what happens when that process goes the other way - a pundit becomes a major political leader... Could such a person actually become a good leader?  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 14: Truth Seekers

21.14  
Truth Seekers

“I have told you about conspiracies and there definitely is one within the Federation. Or to be more accurate, there are many. Cabals of powerful people conspiring to increase their power. The means vary from one conspiracy to another. Some quietly build monopolies in trade, hoping to go unnoticed until only they and their small circle of trusted co-conspirators can hold a world hostage to their control of a vital resource.  
“Others quietly gather the levers of political power, telling lies here and half-truths there to sway public sentiment and allow them to do whatever they want to do while the vital decisions about your lives are made in back room meetings that you will never see – votes that are never recorded – deals kept off the public record.  
“Still others deal in assassination and dirty tricks, hiding their very existence not only from the public but from all the other centers of power. These are the most dangerous as they will stop at nothing to get their way. We will give them a name since they will not give one to themselves – for now, I will refer to them as the Pretenders. They operate under a pretense of legitimacy, but they do whatever suits their purposes – whatever feeds their desperate need for control.  
“Conspiracies are built out of people. People not very different from you and me. They conspire for various reasons. Greed. A lust for power. Recognition within their cabal. Sometimes they conspire out of a misguided desire to do good – as if you, the citizens of this United Federation of Planets, were incapable of recognizing what is good and supporting it for yourselves. And sometimes they do it out of a self-righteous belief that they are always right. Remember the Pretenders – this is the kind of people they are – people who believe they are always right. And they will stop at nothing because when you are always right, the ends always justify the means.  
“Ordinary, greedy conspiracies for power and control are dangerous enough. The Pretenders are far, far more dangerous because of their belief in their infallibility. But there is something far, far, far, more dangerous than all the conspiracies that have ever thrived throughout history:

“Complacency.

“Conspiracies only survive in the dark. Within the Federation, we humans are fortunate to have built a post-scarcity economy. One in which our citizens work not for survival, but for self-fulfillment. You do not have to be anything. Which means you can be whatever you want. And what we need are patriots. So how can you show your patriotism?  
“Let me tell you a story about a patriot. A citizen of the Federation – my father, Radovan Ivonovic. My father was born on his family’s farm in Pilgrim’s Landing on the Colony of New Hope. I was born on that same farm. Like my father, I was taught first how to plough, sow, cultivate, harvest and store food. It is a lesson in hard work that, learned early in life, travels with you the rest of your days and leaves you restless in times of ease.  
“Not that times were easy on New Hope. Then, as now, many people were aware of the conspiracies around them – for the powerful have always conspired against us. Many, many people left the Colony of New Hope – they left to colonize new worlds away from the Federation. I hear a lot of people saying similar things today – separatists wanting to leave the Federation. My father accurately predicted what would happen to those people. I did not want to believe him, but over the years he was proved right every single time. Every. Single. Time.  
“Those who left the Federation simply ended up with conspiracies among themselves. And to make things worse, without the protection of the Federation, they fell prey to nausicaan raiders. Ferengi adventurers. Orion slavers. Cardassian overlords. Democracy never flourished in any of these breakaway colonies. What few survived the ravages of the cardassians were later slaughtered by the jem’hadar in the Dominion War.  
“My father said they were traitors and they deserved what they got. So what did he do? My father started a newspaper. An actual, printed ink on paper newspaper. Its stories are not broadcast on any computer frequency. To read those stories, you must actually receive a copy of the paper. And my father taught me journalism, how to write, how to research, how to ferret out the truth that the powerful go to such lengths to conceal.  
“This is what I am asking you to do. To not be complacent. I want you to become a truth seeker. Whether you farm or move goods or serve in Star Fleet or just sit on the beach – I am asking you to open your eyes. Find the truth – do not assume you know the truth – find it for yourself. And then let other people know. Build a channel. Start a discussion group. Or even print a newspaper.  
“But how do you get people to listen? My father started the Good News of New Hope in order to shed light on the conspiracies he was aware of. But he got people to read by telling their stories too. The good and the bad, side by side. For every ruthless would-be monopolist, there was always a lawyer who would provide free counseling or someone who would stand up for you when you could not stand up for yourself. Find these stories too.  
“We cannot win unless we have something to win. We cannot fight unless we have something worth fighting for. We cannot prevail unless we have a reason to prevail.  
“So yes, there are conspiracies all around you. Some are comically harmless. Some are vast and powerful. And some are downright deadly and threaten not only our lives but the very moral fiber of our Federation – that cut at who and what we are. I am calling on you to protect those fibers. To bring them together. To be what the founders of my homeworld wanted to be for all of humanity. For all members of the Federation. A new hope.  
“This is Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic reaching out to you, the new hope of the Federation. Calling on you to be the voice of the people. Asking you not to allow the conspirators to control your lives but to take back that control. To be truth seekers. To rise to your patriotic duty to our people and not to leave the Federation, but to rebuild it anew from within.  
“You will hear my name again. You will see my face again. I have promised not to leave you and we will never let the voice of the people be silent in the face of the Pretenders or any other conspiracy. Subspace Radio Ivonovic will not fall silent again. Together, we will do what must be done in every generation – we will rise up and build this Federation anew.”

21.14


	32. Episode 21.15 - The Enemy of My Enemy: You Are Cordially Invited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Romulan Star Navy Supreme Commander Sela issues what amounts to an ultimatum: Justice Minerva Irons must surrender herself for trial or there will be war...
> 
>  _“As the leader of the romulan people, I must bring our enemies to account for their crimes. So I must know, Justice Minerva Irons, were you acting on behalf of the United Federation of Planets? Or were you acting alone? Is the United Federation of Planets the enemy of the romulan people?_  
>  _“...I give you this one chance. If you are to account for your conduct in romulan space, for the murder of thousands of romulans and millions of borg, for the damage you caused to the Fero and the Bestia, for the destruction of Gamorlan and, most egregiously, for the desecration of the sacred soil of Romulus, you are cordially invited to surrender yourself to me before the Senate of New Romulus on Vulcan..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Sela, in my hands (and I believe in her creators' hands), is a Machiavellian leader - the iron fist in the velvet glove. She is a cultured, intelligent and adaptive tyrant who shows her strength through elegance.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy   
Scene 15: You Are Cordially Invited

21.15  
You Are Cordially Invited

The invitation had been transmitted on the same subspace frequency as Mlady’s locator beacon – a frequency almost exclusively used by the tholians. It had arrived just as the tactical unit was docking with the U.S.S. Hunter. While the rest of the crew were busy with leaving romulan space as quickly as they could and dealing with the details of the deaths of Commander David Pepper and Lt. Commander Tauk, as well as the return of Commander Kenny Dolphin and Lt. Commander Mlady, Justice Minerva Irons was in her office, receiving a message recorded just for her. The viewscreen displayed Sela’s face against a starry background.

“I know you are monitoring this frequency, your honor. And you should know by now that I allowed your escape. Run back to the Federation. Run to your retirement home. But you cannot run away from the crimes you committed in the sovereign space of the Romulan Star Empire – a sovereign empire of a space-faring people who had faster-than-light travel when the klingons were just beginning their first space programs and when the fastest you humans could travel involved riding a beast.  
“Before there were more than a few hundred million humans, billions of romulans peacefully roamed these stars and tamed these worlds. After the destruction of our homeworld, we carried all that was left of that world in our ships. You have stood on the soil of Romulus. And your people defiled it. You spread that precious soil all over the floors of my ship. You left that precious soil on the farming implements that you left in my office – this very office! You even tormented one of our native farm animals, exposing him to war that you brought to my ship.  
“Yes, I know you brought the borg to my ship. And your allies, the borg, killed thousands of my people on this very ship. They even set their feet in the precious soil of Romulus. And after you brought your allies into romulan space to make war on my ship, you betrayed your allies – destroying one of their ships and killing millions of them. I do not regret their demise – but you should. You are directly responsible for their deaths. You lured them to their deaths.  
“As you are responsible for the deaths of thousands of romulans on the I.R.W. Fero and our orbital research station and ground research stations on the planet Gamorlan. You destroyed a living planet deep in the heart of romulan territory.  
“As the leader of the romulan people, I must bring our enemies to account for their crimes. So I must know, Justice Minerva Irons, were you acting on behalf of the United Federation of Planets? Or were you acting alone? Is the United Federation of Planets the enemy of the romulan people? Or is it just you? I will be bringing my case to the Federation Council for your immediate extradition. Unless you submit yourself freely to be judged for your crimes. By me.  
“I give you this one chance. If you are to account for your conduct in romulan space, for the murder of thousands of romulans and millions of borg, for the damage you caused to the Fero and the Bestia, for the destruction of Gamorlan and, most egregiously, for the desecration of the sacred soil of Romulus, you are cordially invited to surrender yourself to me before the Senate of New Romulus on Vulcan. Under Romulan tradition, I hold your crew blameless as they were following your orders. I understand Federation law may differ on that point. So I leave your crew to be judged under your laws. Your death ship may bring you to Vulcan and deposit you there, but it must then immediately depart for Federation space. It may not remain for your trial.  
“I do not know if you are familiar with the laws of the Romulan Star Empire. But it may set your mind at ease that we outlawed execution as a form of punishment before we even became a space-faring people. Under romulan law, criminals are punished by being stripped and striped. That is all the punishment they ever receive. A few days of pain, which may not, by our laws, be in any way life threatening. But criminals are then subject to correction, which consists of determining a new life path for them. For war criminals, that life path usually involves gardening."

“I do not want you to be afraid, Minerva Irons. Your life is not in danger. But you should be very, very deeply ashamed. Humans seem to think they have souls. We do not believe in such things. But if you do, in fact have a soul, your soul is very much in danger."

“I will look for you in the courtyard of the Imperial Administration Building on New Romulus on Vulcan in eleven of your standard days.”

21.15


	33. Episode 21.16 - The Enemy of My Enemy: The Sleep of the Just

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The shadowy director of Section 31, Julian Bashir, has even more bad news for Justice Minerva Irons - her life is about to change dramatically...
> 
>  _“Not easy, being an agent for Section 31, is it?” Chief Justice Julian Bashir’s suave voice managed at once to be soothing and menacing. It was something about that cultured, posh British accent.... "You and Slade encouraged me to become the Director of Section 31...” The years clearly weighed heavily on Julian’s shoulders. Instead of picking up middle age weight, he had grown thin – his once handsome face had a gaunt, haunted look to it. He needed a shave..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> This enormous change was planned from the beginning of this story. As were the deaths of Pep and Tauk (and that they would both be eaten by Lt. Cmdr. Mlady).  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 21: The Enemy of My Enemy  
Scene 16: The Sleep of the Just

  
21.16  
The Sleep of the Just

“Not easy, being an agent for Section 31, is it?” Chief Justice Julian Bashir’s suave voice managed at once to be soothing and menacing. It was something about that cultured, posh British accent. It was the voice of a hero. It was also the voice of carefully planned, deliciously intractable evil.  
Justice Minerva Irons realized that she had fallen asleep at her desk - a glass of Scotch in her hand. She had recently replaced her office chair with something more comfortable. The old chair had gotten a bit hard for her aging derriere. Unfortunately, the new chair was just a bit too comfortable. She remembered her last communication with the shadowy director of Section 31 and was at least momentarily heartened that she appeared to have a mouth.

Irons felt a deep sense of foreboding. It was an unpleasant feeling. “What have I become?”  
“A war criminal,” the Director of Section 31 replied. “A death force. A destroyer of worlds. A defiler of sacred soil. You have become what the Federation needed you to become. What the romulans needed you to become. And that is nothing compared to what I have become. I thought Slade was a monster when you and he recruited me into this organization, ostensibly to reform it. To help lift the cloak of secrecy and evil deeds done in the name of posterity. You two encouraged me to become the Director of Section 31 and in so doing you turned me into a monster.” The years clearly weighed heavily on Julian Bashir’s shoulders. Instead of picking up middle age weight, he had grown thin – his once handsome face had a gaunt, haunted look to it. He needed a shave.  
Bashir laughed grimly. “Do you think for a moment that anyone would have braved the journey through romulan space into the Dead Zone to learn the doom that hangs over us all if Admiral Scumuk hadn’t concocted that weaponized virus designed to exterminate the bolian people? I have a bullpen of geniuses working for me who knew otherwise. Scumuk was in the early stages of Bendii Syndrome. He had been rattling on about that library for a decade. No one was listening anymore. No one believed him. Ancient library of the progenitors? A broken hulk? Vague talk of gamma radiation? The ramblings of a madman, gradually coming unglued.”

He leaned forward in the chair across from the captain’s desk and thumped his forehead with his index finger. “Did you really believe that I allowed Chief Justice Scrivax to poison my mind to hide his genocidal rampage against the half-trills? My own son is half-trill!!”

“So it was Scrivax?” Irons asked.

“Of course it was Scrivax,” Bashir said tiredly. “All because the doctor who could not save his wife was married to a half-trill. It drove him mad. He went through the kohlinar - the priests thought he had purged his emotions. It only drove him further into madness.”

Bashir leaned forward again in his chair, becoming more animated. “Who do you think programmed that half-vulcan, half betazoid serial killer to help him do his dirty work? He bred her to do his dirty work! She was his daughter! I allowed their murderous rampage to go on because I needed Scrivax to condition Scumuk to do something even worse. It was the only way I could get your mission authorized. Not that I knew Scumuk would go after the bolians.” He sat back again, looked down to his left. “I didn’t make any of these things happen - I just allowed them to happen.”

“Julian, what have you become?” Irons was horrified, but at the same time she just felt tired. Exhausted. Completely spent. Ancient. This was not sleep. This was just more work.

“What have I become? Nothing less than what you must become. A monster. Our work is not yet done, Minerva We still have to ensure that the romulan people, the klingon people, our people – all of our people – have a chance for a future. You don’t yet know what the price for that future is. But a guilty conscience and not being able to sleep the rest of your life – a few billion deaths – the destruction of entire species – none of that compares to the real price. Your Doctor Carrera will discover what that real price is soon enough. And he will pay it. Because the alternative is annihilation for all of our people.”  
“You and me – we’re just tilling the soil. Doctor Carrera will be the one to sow the fields. And my successor – the next Director – will reap what Carrera sows. He will become an even greater monster than I am. It is quite a shame, you know. He really is a very nice guy. Charming. Smarter than he looks. Like I was once – full of the best intentions. That’s why I know he’s the right man for this job.”  
Bashir got up from the chair across from Irons’ desk and started to pace. “Did you know that including Section 31 in the Federation Charter was a Vulcan requirement? It sounds like such a human idea, but Earth Gov resisted including it. The vulcans won out. ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few’…”   
He became even more animated, almost snarling. “I used to spit at the words ‘the greater good.’ Classic villainy – everything justified because we were ‘doing it for the greater good.’ I didn’t know then the doom hanging over us and I didn’t realize then just how high the price would be to save not just untold trillions of lives, but the entire future of life in this part of the galaxy.”  
Bashir paused, his back to Irons, his voice much softer. “There is much worse to come, Minerva. Seciton 31 has protected the Federation from its greatest threat - humanity - for generations. I am withdrawing that protection. I will stand by and let human nature take its course.”  
The Director of Section 31 turned again and faced Irons. “You must face Sela. You must prevent a war. And then you must escape. Your job is not done. I told you that you must unleash a monster on another world. I did not tell you who that monster would be.”

“You intend for it to be me.” Irons was nearly in tears. “I don’t have it left in me, Julian. I can’t do this anymore.”

Bashir walked around the captain’s desk, squatted to his haunches and took her hands in his. Irons was crying freely now. For a long moment, he simply allowed her to cry.

“Minerva…” His voice was soft - the voice of one of the Federation’s most celebrated doctors, famous for his bedside manner. She looked up. Took a deep, shuddering breath.  
“You have always been a monster, Minerva. A glorious monster. In 90 years you have killed more than any Star Fleet captain in history. More klingons. More cardassians. More humans. Far more romulans. What is hurting you so badly isn’t any guilt over that trail of bodies. What’s hurting you so badly is the pretense that you don’t love it. I am giving you this assignment not just because you’re the best person for the job. I am giving you the opportunity to finally set yourself free. To be what you really are. Without pretense.”  
Bashir released her hands and stood up slowly. He took a seat across from her. “Becoming the Monster of Saketh will not take any further effort on your part, Minerva. You’re already there. Your name will terrorize romulan children for the next thousand years. Supreme Commander Sela is seeing to that right now. She is doing our work for us. She thinks she wants revenge. What she desperately needs is an ally. You. To become the savior of Saketh you must become the Monster of Saketh – the only thing that can convince a billion romulans to uproot from paradise.”  
Bashir’s voice became even sliker, his enunciation even more precise. “And only you can convince Sela to escort the U.S.S. Ark into the Romulan Star Empire, where it will take more than a hundred years of ceaseless work and violence to complete the sack of Saketh. Every scrap of life must be removed from that world. And the riches of that superplanet must be seeded in romulan space as far from the Dead Zone as possible. Which means the Federation will need to gift the Romulan Star Empire two planetary systems on our side of the Neutral Zone – two star systems – at great strategic threat to the Federation. Because those planets are the best candidates to receive those riches.”

“You, Minerva. You are the only one who can convince Sela… And Ushi. Before you go to Vulcan, you must talk with your son…”

21 – The Enemy of My Enemy


	34. Episode 22.1 - Sacrifice: The Crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Justice Minerva Irons announces her retirement from Star Fleet. Her first officer explains the many changes to the crew roster and introduces new crew members...
> 
>  _“I will be taking terminal leave and will retire from Star Fleet at the end of that time,” Irons continued. “Since I have chosen not to give up my command, regulations require me to serve my last two weeks on active status onboard. I do not plan to return to this ship until then. Until then, Dr. Dolphin will operate as acting captain and my quarters will be his quarters. We have a number of other crew changes..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> My father served in the U.S. Navy. One characteristic he told me about was that crews were constantly changing. Some people who were on board when he arrived were still there when he left, but the rule was change. One of the things I wanted to do with this story was to reflect that swirling change in personnel on a star ship.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 1: The Crew

22.1  
The Crew

“I am maintaining my command until I am formally decommissioned, but as I will be on shore leave for the next several months, Commander Dolphin will effectively be in command of the U.S.S. Hunter.”

Justice Minerva Irons was addressing the Hunter’s crew, who were gathered in the large conference room in Starbase Eleven. A portable holographic emitter array had been erected in the conference room so that Hunter, Dr. Kim and Dr. Raj could also attend along with the rest of the crew. 

Behind Irons was the mural of the Hunter’s former crew members: Lt. T’Lok Smith, Flight Specialist Joey Chin, Investigator Lynhart Shran, Lt. Commander Sarekson Carrera and the Hunter’s previous tactical squad - Tactical Specialists Jarrong, Belo Rys, Belo Garr and Belo Cantys – the four of whom were currently on Ocean serving as lifeguards. A new painting – also by Lt. Napoleon Boles and in the same style, displayed Heroic Heart caricatures of the late Commander David Pepper and Lt. Commander Tauk. Boles had depicted Pep in Klingon armor, seated in the command chair of the giant first officer's last command – the klingon bird of prey, I.K.V. ‘Iw Hov - with Tauk standing next to him.  
The U.S.S. Hunter was once again in dry dock, undergoing extensive repair to the hull, which had been damaged when a layer of ionized iridium had been burned off, creating micro-fractures in the aluminum from which vital oxides had been leeched.

“I will be taking terminal leave and will retire from Star Fleet at the end of that time,” Irons continued. “Since I have chosen not to give up my command, regulations require me to serve my last two weeks on active status onboard. I do not plan to return to this ship until then. Until then, Dr. Dolphin will operate as acting captain and my quarters will be his quarters. We have a number of other crew changes, which I will call on my Executive Officer to commemorate. Kenneth?”  
Commander Kenneth Dolphin stood up, surveyed the crew, some of whom would be departing immediately following this meeting for new assignments. Others were newly assigned to the Hunter. “Let me start by again commemorating our friends, Commander David Pepper and Lieutenant Commander Tauk, both of whom gave their lives in the line of duty. We have already celebrated their lives and their service, but at this meeting, because we are talking about changes to our crew, it would be impossible to even begin to describe those changes without taking another moment to miss them and acknowledge the giant hole the death of each of them has left in our lives.”  
Dolphin fell silent for a few moments. He observed the reactions of the crew members and was once again grateful for the exceptional artistic talent of Napoleon Boles. The comic/heroic poses of Pep and Tauk in Napoleon’s painting of them somehow captured the best part of their spirits and helped the crew realize that their friends were not entirely lost to the universe. A part of them remained and their likenesses would continue to be seen and (thanks to Napoleon’s talent) admired by Star Fleet crews stationed at and passing through Starbase Eleven.

Seventeen seconds. For most other Federation species, a moment of silence could be longer, but for humans the optimal amount of time was seventeen seconds. And most of the Hunter’s crew were mostly human.

Dolphin took a deep breath, looked up. “I want to congratulate Chief Flight Specialist Dewayne Guth, who, after 20 years of service, is retiring from Star Fleet and has taken an assignment as ambassador to the giant waterbirds for the City of Pern on Cun Ling. Dewayne, I could not be more proud and we are all happy for you. May I be the first to say congratulations, Ambassador Guth. I want to express all our best wishes for this next chapter in your life. In helping to ensure the survival and welfare of an entire intelligent species and their culture, you have already become a hero among our people, and you have admirers in the highest levels of Star Fleet and the Federation Council. You may well be the longest remembered of any of our crew.”  
There was sporadic, then growing applause for the Hunter’s veteran shuttle pilot. With some prodding from his fellow pilots, Guth stood up. Only those who knew him well could tell that he was blushing - the subtle spots from his trill parentage stood out just a little more than usual against his dark skin.

A tall, skinny, teenaged girl with pale skin and short, mousy brown hair was sitting at the front of the room. When Dolphin gestured to her she stood and turned to look at the Hunter’s crew – and to be seen by them. She looked far too young to be wearing a Star Fleet uniform.  
“I want to introduce our new primary shuttle pilot, Jennifer Hopper. Following basic training, Crewman Hopper has spent the past six months on the Earth-Mars route. I am transferring her from Star Fleet Space Command to the JAG Office and promoting her to Flight Specialist. The U.S.S. Hunter will be her first deep space assignment.”  
Next to Jennifer Hopper was a green-skinned klingon with bundles of coal black hair. She stood up and turned and smiled sweetly – despite her klingon features, she was clearly also part orion, which seemed to account for her pleasant demeanor as well as her skin color. “Navigator Auqa’rh’lth* will replace our friend, the debonair Eli Strahl, who has taken an assignment with the navigation department of the U.S.S. Ark. Eli, I hear there are more than 150,000 women, both Star Fleet and civilian, who will be serving on the U.S.S. Ark – on behalf of our crew members who will very much miss your attentions, may I just say – happy hunting…”

The room exploded with laughter. Eli was well known for his well-received dalliances with several female members of the Hunter’s crew.

“Dr. Chrissiana Trei has taken a promotion to serve in the medical department of the U.S.S. Ark. I am pleased to announce the promotion of Midshipman Sif to Ensign – Ensign Sif will be staying with us. And we have a new Forensic Specialist, Midshipman Kunto Wekesa – Dr. Wekesa…” Dolphin gestured to an impossibly tall, thin young man seated in the front row. Midshipman Wekesa had jet black skin – even darker than Gaia Gamor.  
“In our engineering department we also have a number of changes. First, I am happy to announce the promotion of Yolanda Thomas to Chief Flight Engineer. Yolanda will remain with us, but Midshipman Tammy Brazil – newly promoted to Ensign and Transporter Engineer K’rok – newly promoted to Chief Transporter Engineer – will both be leaving us for assignments on the U.S.S. Ark. Please allow me to introduce their replacements: Midshipman Carlos Datsun and Transporter Engineer Dragomut.”  
Carlos Datsun was clearly of Japanese descent. Transporter Engineer Dragomut had an oddly shaped head and it was impossible to determine his/her gender. Subtle crenellations below the eyes were offset by stronger layers of ridges above the eyes leading to an elongated forehead that tapered back to a long, high cone-shaped skull - subtle variations of yellow, purple and blue on the engineer’s forehead created a crown-like appearance. Dragomut’s skin appeared supple, but somehow also had a shell-like quality. Neither male, nor female, Dragomut radiated a knowing sexuality that was sexually stimulating to nearly every member of the Hunter’s crew. Uncomfortably stimulating.  
Dolphin registered this discomfort and had prepared for it. “Just so that all of you can feel a little more comfortable, I talked with Dragomut and our new transporter engineer agrees with me that it would be a good idea for me to make a few things clear with respect to language usage. Dragomut is an imoginette. I don’t know what you might have heard about these people, they are members of the Federation, but rarely seen outside of their homeworld. Imoginettes do not have gender the way most of you are familiar with the concept - their gender changes with their mood. You may use either male or female pronouns, but please do not use the pronoun ‘it’ when referring to the imoginettes as this translates to an inanimate pronoun, which Dragomut’s people consider to be a grave insult. My recommendation is that you avoid using pronouns entirely. This could make grammar a bit tricky, but I think we would all prefer awkward sentence structures to awkward silences.”

Dolphin looked about, waiting to be sure his crew worked all of that out before continuing. “Both Dr. Tali Shae and Lieutenant Commander Mlady will be taking leave here, on Ocean, for at least the next month,” said Dolphin. “In light of which, Dr. Boles will continue in his role as acting Chief Operations Officer and Dr. Jazz Sam Sinder will stand in as acting Medical Director.”  
“Also, I have two more promotions to announce. Napoleon, Gaia, please step forward.”  
The Director of Flight Operations and the half-bolian epidemiologist both stepped forward.  
“As you know, hollow pips often come with a history. Napoleon, this was Midshipman Sif’s pip.” Dolphin attached the pip next to the two full pips on Dr. Boles’ collar. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Boles. Gaia - this pip came from Tauk’s collar. It was once on my collar, and before me, Dr. Tali Shae wore it.” Dolphin attached the pip to Gamor’s collar. “Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Gamor.”  
“Finally, I want to thank Rear Admiral Burton for facilitating the repairs on our ship. It will be ready in ten hours. At that time I want all hands at duty stations, ready to launch. Dr. Tali Shae and Mlady will be remaining here on Ocean, but we need to deliver Dewayne to Cun Ling, then we have another delivery to make. So if you want to hit the waves down on Ocean, you have nine hours. Get going! Dismissed!”

_* Auqa’rh’lth (roughly pronounced “Ah-khah-rrruh-ulth.” The apostrophes in the Klingon language indicate glottal stops.)_

22.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper  
> Human Ethnicity: English American  
> Additional Species: Romulan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: New York City, New York, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 22.1  
> Age when introduced: 18  
> Role: Shuttle Pilot, U.S.S. Hunter
> 
> Character: Navigator Auqa'rh'lth  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon, Orion  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Traders Pointe, Rising Sun  
> Introduced: Episode 22.1  
> Age when introduced: 22  
> Role: Navigator, U.S.S. Hunter
> 
> Character: Midshipman Kunto Wekesa  
> Human Ethnicity: Zulu  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Johannesburg, South Africa, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 22.1  
> Age when introduced: 26  
> Role: Forensic Specialist, U.S.S. Hunter
> 
> Character: Midshipman Carlos Datsun  
> Human Ethnicity: Japanese  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Cali, Colombia, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 22.1  
> Age when introduced: 23  
> Role: Transporter Engineering Coordinator, U.S.S. Hunter
> 
> Character: Transporter Engineer Dragomut  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Imoginette  
> Hometown/Homeworld: River Gorge, Parhillion V  
> Introduced: Episode 22.1  
> Age when introduced: 31  
> Role: Transporter Engineer, U.S.S. Hunter


	35. Episode 22.2 - Sacrifice: A Little Tune-up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Commander Dolphin enjoys a nice afternoon with Commander Holly Nash...
> 
>  _The U.S.S. Hunter’s first officer, still laughing, started to get up to comply only to get pushed back down by Starbase Eleven’s first officer..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Again, I never publish smut. But I do show a few adult moments...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 2: A Little Tune-up

22.2  
A Little Tune-up

“So you now have an imoginette on your crew? Boy are you going to be grateful you docked your ship in my maintenance bay, flyboy…”

It seemed ages since Commander Kenneth Dolphin had laughed at all, much less until he nearly doubled over. Even her worst jokes had him falling apart – which was in part because he had been under so much stress and in part because Commander Holly Nash had a superb sense of comic timing.

“Oh, that was just terribly corny…”  
“Eh, you were due for a little tune-up… I’ve heard rumors about the imoginettes – that’s going to be more stimulating than having an orion slave girl on board. But then I’ve heard stories about the Hunter’s crew having to deal with everyone going into sexual overdrive before. Now you have to tell me why you so emphatically preferred my quarters to yours…” Nash got up to fetch a drink. She didn’t have a beautiful face and her body was blocky and strong, not exceptionally feminine. What made her attractive was kind eyes, a quick mind and a naughty sense of humor. 

And a tendency to make the first move – which, Dolphin had to admit rather ruefully, was the one thing all the women he had been with had in common. 

“Well, for starters, you have an actual bed,” Dolphin observed. “And your rooms are almost as big as the entire deck my quarters are located on. Then there’s the avatar…”  
Nash was pouring a drink in the next room. “Avatar?” she shouted back.  
Dolphin craned his neck to look at her. “Almost three years and I’m still getting used to serving on an artificially intelligent ship. Wherever you are on board – whatever you’re doing – Hunter is always watching. It gets a little creepy sometimes. Even more because I actually like him..”  
Nash clambered back into bed, handed Dolphin a glass of strawberry-pineapple wine. “No replicated drinks in my quarters. Only the best for my boyfriends.”  
“A girl has to have her standards…” Dolphin smiled.  
“My standards are pretty basic. You just have to fit my profile: male and no less than three full pips on your collar - no more than four.” Nash tapped her finger lightly along Dolphin’s collarbone. “You meet the requirements, so I’m your girl in port when you’re at this Starbase.”  
“You have a thing for captains and first officers,” Dolphin relaxed, took a drink.  
“Captains and first officers are married to their ships. It keeps things simple. We can have fun for a few nights and I don’t get those creepy, lingering stares wondering whether I’m the one…” Nash trailed her fingers down Dolphin’s chest.  
“You’re not looking for the one for you?” Dolphin asked.  
“Well, I am chief of staff for Rear Admiral Burton. I can’t very well go having affairs with anyone on my crew. Kind of like you in that respect.” Nash drained her glass, then laid back down next to Dolphin.  
“Well, there are about 4,000 civilians down on the planet,” said Dolphin. He took a long drink.  
“Yeah, but most of them are vulcans and you know what they’re like,” said Nash. “Fun for a night, but then they tend to fall in love and they get all clingy and emotional …”

Dolphin blew strawberry-pineapple wine all over the bedding, dropped his glass, spilling the rest of it and nearly died coughing and laughing.

“And now you will be replacing my sheets, Commander...”  
The U.S.S. Hunter’s first officer, still laughing, started to get up to comply only to get pushed back down by Starbase Eleven’s first officer. Nash climbed on top of him.  
“But not just yet, flyboy…”

22.2


	36. Episode 22.3 - Sacrifice: Passengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The U.S.S. Hunter is carrying passengers - two destined for Cun Ling and one for New Romulus on Vulcan...
> 
>  _“We have been trying to protect everyone from the reality that the only force that can provide a future for life in the Alpha Quadrant is the borg,” said Dolphin. “Everyone sees the borg as a death force, but they were actually created to preserve life. The truth is we know dangerously little about the borg..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> More fun with Justice Minerva Irons' eldest son, Ushi  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 3: Passengers

22.3  
Passengers

The all-crew meeting had ended precisely at 4:30 hours, Star Fleet Standard Time (which was set throughout the fleet to correspond with North America Central Time to synchronize with the time at Star Fleet Headquarters in Dubuque, Iowa.)  
Commander Kenneth Dolphin stepped through the port airlock onto the U.S.S. Hunter at 14:27 and onto the bridge precisely at 14:29 hours. His acting second officer, Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles, stood up from the captain’s chair. At 14:30 hours, Dolphin took his seat.

“All hands onboard plus three, all moorings released,” Boles reported.  
“Ensign Chelna Zusa, take us out, one-quarter thrusters,” Dolphin commanded. He turned to look at his blue 2nd officer. “Plus three?”  
Boles looked at Dolphin. “Ambassador Guth, Justice Irons and…”  
At that moment the door to the captain’s office opened and disgorged the most powerful man in the Alpha Quadrant – the impossibly tall, thin, white-haired, impassive Ushi Irons.  
“Him,” Boles concluded.  
“Doctor Dolphin,” intoned Ushi, “I had heard that you take a very disciplined approach to command.”  
“Thank you, Esteemed Council Leader,” Dolphin replied. “If you would please give me a minute?”  
Ushi brushed his long, wispy white beard to the right, gave the slightest inclination of his head.  
“Navigator Auqa’rh’lth,” said Dolphin, “Make our course for Cun Ling. Ensign Zusa, when ready, engage at warp 13.75.”   
Napoleon Boles leaned back against the safety railing that divided the main section of the bridge from the rear stations. He looked up at Council Leader Ushi Irons. “You might want to hang on to something, sir. There will be a little bump…”

The bump from dead stop into recursive warp at factor 13.75 was more psychological than physical. There was a definite feeling in the deck plates, but it was the view of the stars blurring in that particular way that was still disorienting even to the veteran crew of the U.S.S. Hunter.  
It almost felt as though the Hunter and its crew were suddenly being extruded deep into space. What was actually happening was the Hunter was compacting spacetime around it, then, by means of the reverse entropy bubble on the backside of the recursive warp field, zipping the damaged spacetime back together.  
Ushi Irons took this transition in stride, then turned toward Dolphin and said, “At your convenience, Commander.” He walked back into the captain’s office.  
Dolphin stood up. “Napoleon, you have the con.”  
“Aye sir,” Boles responded.

Dolphin entered the captain’s office to find Justice Minerva Irons half reclined on the couch. Ushi was standing near the false wall behind which lurked a dormant borg. Dolphin took his seat behind the captain’s desk, not certain if Minerva’s son was aware he was standing only a foot away from a slumbering borg, separated only by a false bulkhead.

“Things look a little different from behind that desk, don’t they, Kenneth?” asked Irons. “It seems there is a bit more gray in your hair than when we first met. It doesn’t look bad on you.”  
“We have less than 47 hours to meet Sela’s deadline,” said Ushi.  
“Which we will meet with time to spare,” Dolphin replied.  
“I remain… curious about your… delivery plan,” Ushi said. “I understand your Ph.D. is in ethics. You appear to be offering a sacrifice.”  
“More like sending in a canary,” Dolphin replied.  
Ushi’s mother watched their exchange as though she were watching a tennis match.  
“A high price for probing your antagonists’ intentions.”   
“A timely and potent demonstration of ours.”  
“A heavy weight on narrow shoulders.”  
“Tempering a new asset.”

“Would you two cut it out?” Minerva Irons asked in exasperation.

“It remains a topic of unresolved interest,” said Ushi.  
“It’s done,” Dolphin replied. “I think Minerva wanted to address our larger issue.”  
“I cannot promise the Council will agree to hand over the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems to the Romulan Star Empire,” said Ushi. “In fact, I cannot imagine even getting just my coalition to vote for it. I have a hard enough time getting these people to do what they actually want to do.”  
“Then you have to make them want to do it, Ushi,” Minerva said. “I think it’s time to tell them about Admiral Scumuk’s research. We now have telemetry of gamma waves working their way through the far end of the Romulan Star Empire…”  
“So you want to admit to these secret missions you have been running into romulan space?” Ushi asked. “As long as this information is restricted to the Security Committee, it will remain secure. But once the entire Council is informed, even under strictest secrecy, it will get out.”  
“It is going to get out, Ushi,” Minerva replied. “Supreme Commander Sela will make certain of that. Our choice is a stark one. We can either help preserve the Romulan Star Empire, or face open war with them.”  
“This course of action would put both Trillus Prime and Betazed within striking distance of romulan aggression,” said Ushi.  
“This is one reason why the Ark is only the first of its kind,” said Irons. “By the time we turn those star systems over to the romulans, we can have one of those fortresses in orbit of Trillus Prime, one at Betazed and another within striking distance of New Romulus on Vulcan.”  
“Which would put us on a permanent cold war footing,” Ushi summarized. “We would be maintaining the peace through a balance of arms instead of negotiated strategic positioning. It is a very precarious course of action. Everyone will be operating with hair triggers. It would greatly increase the chances of the Federation ending up in an unwanted war with the romulans.”  
“Ushi, somehow or another, we have to make this happen,” Minerva said. “I will be promising those star systems to Sela within 72 hours.”

“How about we try using the truth?” Dolphin asked. “I know, it’s a novel concept, but it might make for a refreshing change.”

“I have been a politician for more than 50 years, Doctor Dolphin. I’m no longer certain I even know what that word means anymore,” Ushi observed dryly.   
“We have been trying to protect everyone from the reality that the only force that can provide a future for life in the Alpha Quadrant is the borg,” said Dolphin. “Everyone sees the borg as a death force, but they were actually created to preserve life. The truth is we know dangerously little about the borg. Especially about what has happened to them since Admiral Janeway destroyed their transwarp conduit. One of the few things we do know is that there once was a borg stronghold on the other side of the Dead Zone in the Beta Quadrant, beyond romulan space. We have to get an expedition there. We need free passage through romulan space to make contact. It is also reasonable to assume the romulans know a whole lot more about the Dead Zone, the projected movement of gamma radiation extermination throughout the Alpha Quadrant – all these things – they have to know a lot more about them than we do.”  
Minerva and Ushi Irons were just looking at him, so Dolphin continued. “Think about it – the romulans have been building those enormous ships and putting planetary environments inside of them. They’re still dependent on planets, but they are transforming themselves into a culture of interplanetary nomads. Given a few more generations, they could abandon their planet-bound populations and just drift through space, gathering energy and resources from one solar system after another – mining as they go – taking what they want. It has to be what they’ve been preparing for. This is their solution to the Dead Zone. Let them build enough of those ships and they can conquer their way through the Alpha Quadrant, staying ahead of the gamma radiation until they just outrun it.”  
“Our plan, on the other hand, is to preserve all life in the Alpha Quadrant – and as much in the Beta Quadrant as we can. There is no way we can do that without the romulans. We can’t manage the borg and fight a full-scale war with the romulans at the same time. Everyone sees the romulans as weakened. But they have never been so dangerous. They’re caught between us and certain death. When the time comes, they will fight like cornered animals – they’re facing the harsh reality of victory or death. We have to make them believe there is a better way. We have to make everyone believe there is a better way.” Dolphin dropped his fist onto the desk with a thump.

“Ushi – the romulans could take Betazed and Trillus Prime whenever they want to,” Dolphin continued. “Eventually, they will take those planets. It isn’t a matter of if – it is a matter of when. If we can successfully transplant Saketh into the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems, it may put off that romulan aggression by as much as a hundred years or more. If, on the other hand, we let Saketh die, the romulans will take Trillus and Betazed. They will need them for their own survival.”

22.3


	37. Episode 22 - Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> introduction to Episode 22 - Sacrifice  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The following is an excerpt from Dr. Mlady's doctoral dissertation.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice

Episode 22 – Sacrifice

_“There exists in the psyche of every social animal an urge to give its life to a magnificent predator in an act of all consuming passion – a deep desire to be devoured and obliterated by a powerful carnivore in a blinding orgasm of pain. In intelligent species, this desperate desire is often derided in its recreational guise of masochistic carnality as sexual deviancy while simultaneously celebrated in its religious incarnation of self-sacrifice as a virtuous submission to the will of a higher being. But both of these phenomena are at root unconscious expressions of the social animal’s instinct to suborn its own need for individual survival in order to ensure the survival of its herd.”_

_Dr. Mlady –_ _Ethical Sentient Predation – A Predator’s Guide to the Ethical Hunting, Husbandry and Harvesting of Sentient Prey Animals_ _._

  
Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter)

At-Large Appellate Justice, Captain Minerva Irons (On Leave)  
Chief Executive Officer - Commander Kenneth Dolphin  
Chief Operations Officer - Lt. Commander Mlady (On Leave)

  
Medical Director - Commander Tali Shae (On Leave)  
Asst. Medical Director - Lt. Jazz Sam Sinder (acting Medical Director)  
Epidemiologist - Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles (acting Chief Operations Officer)  
Ensign Sif  
Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Kunto Wekesa (nickname is Kit Wekesa)  
Emergency Medical Hologram - Dr. Raj  
Tactical Medical Hologram - Dr. Kim  
.  
Director of Flight Operations - Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor  
Asst. Flight Dir. - 2nd Lt. Ethan Phillips  
Navigator Johanna Imex  
Navigator Auqa’rh’lth   
Ensign Chelna Zusa  
Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate)  
Flight Specialist Dih Terri  
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar  
Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper  
.  
Director of Ground Operations - Lt. T’Lon  
Asst. Ground Ops Dir. - 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves  
Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace  
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina)  
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki  
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi  
Ensign Eykirros Jones (nickname is Ike Jones)  
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo  
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment)  
.  
Director of Engineering - Lt. Moon Sun Salek  
Asst. Engineering Dir. - 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui  
Midshipman Carlos Datsun  
Transporter Engineer Dragomut  
Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars  
Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas  
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs  
Flight Engineer Tomos  
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon


	38. Episode 22.4 - Sacrifice: Shuttle Diplomacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A tiny shuttlecraft and the U.S.S. Hunter's youngest shuttle pilot take Justice Minerva Irons to be tried at New Romulus on Vulcan for her many crimes against the Romulan people...
> 
>  _Irons laughed. “I will tell you a secret – and don’t you dare let this get back to Kenneth until I am confirmed to be in my grave so it doesn’t come back to haunt me…”_  
>  _Jennifer Hopper crossed herself._  
>  _“Roman Catholic?” Irons asked._  
>  _Hopper smiled. “Family tradition. I am from the Bronx, after all. But my dad told me the whole universe is Roman Catholic… He had this recording of a dozen different non-humans chanting – and it all sounded like it was in Latin. Even the binars – although in their case it sounded like mouse-Latin – or like mice squeaking in Latin..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A moment between the U.S.S. Hunter's oldest and youngest crew members.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 4: Shuttle Diplomacy

22.4  
Shuttle Diplomacy

The U.S.S. Hunter barely paused in the A Boo star system to deliver Dewayne Guth and Ushi Irons to Cun Ling. But it was an unusual operation. Guth piloted the wagon (an uparmored shuttle designed to be used with Prowler class starships). After leaving the Hunter’s shuttle bay, the wagon docked with a small, personnel shuttle that had been waiting to rendezvous with the Hunter. The shuttle pilot, a tellarite named Brath bavClovirg, transferred from the shuttle over to the wagon to return to Pern with Guth and Ushi Irons. Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper transferred from the wagon to pilot the small, unarmed shuttle which she then docked in the Hunter’s shuttle bay.

Another 14 hours traveling at unprecedented speeds brought the Hunter to the edge of Vulcan space. Justice Minerva Irons stepped onto the short-range personnel class shuttle. These were the smallest shuttlecraft in service, only large enough to accommodate four people. Two of these craft could easily fit in place of the wagon in the Hunter’s shuttle bay. 

As she sat down next to Flight Specialist Hopper, Irons felt ancient. It was her 160th birthday. Even though she was only a quarter vulcan, Irons had aged exceptionally well for her first 15 decades. It was really only the past few years that she had started to look and feel old. And her pilot, who had only enlisted in Star Fleet eight months previously, was not even 19. She looked like she might be 12.  
They were waiting. Flight Specialist Hopper had gone through the pre-flight check twice, but there really wasn’t much to check. These shuttles were extremely simple by design and did not carry much in the way of computer systems or anything else that needed checking out. By design, the short-range shuttles were nimble, but neither particularly fast nor stealthy. This craft was designed to carry people back and forth within a solar system at low warp speeds. They only rarely exceeded the speed of light.

“I have to ask you again if you are ready to take this risk,” Irons said, watching the young pilot closely. “I am afraid we might be sending you into a life of hard labor under the romulans. One from which rescue might not be possible.”  
“Commander Dolphin asked me that question when he recruited me, your honor,” Hopper replied. “He recruited me specifically to take this risk because you must learn that answer. He told me to simply assume the worst is what is going to happen. I have left a message for my family.” Hopper looked down. “Sometimes you have to die to learn how to live.”  
Irons’ eyes widened a bit. “That is a klingon proverb. Who told you that?”  
“Commander Dolphin.”  
Irons made an amused noise. “He got it from David – Commander Pepper – a dear friend of mine. David used to say that on occasion.”  
“What do you think they are going to do to you?” Hopper asked.  
“Well, at my age, I’m not really worried about it,” Irons said. “I had hoped to spend my waning years on Ocean. Given what we’re headed into, I think those years may have become weeks, now.”   
“Do you think you can make a deal with Empress Sela?”  
“Don’t let her hear you call her that,” said Irons with a warning look. “It is Supreme Commander Sela. She may want that scepter, but she does not pretend to it. Actually, your fate will probably give us the best answer to that question.” 

At that moment Commander Kenneth Dolphin’s voice came through the comm system: “We have confirmed that the U.S.S. Tracker has left vulcan space. Flight Specialist Hopper, you are cleared to launch. Safe travels, Mr. Hopper.”  
The shuttle bay door opened. “Commander, this is Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper, confirming we are good to go.” With a deftness that came as much from talent as from experience, Hopper eased the shuttle from the Hunter’s shuttle bay and headed into vulcan space.

“Your accent sounds familiar,” said Irons. “Do I detect the sound of the Bronx?”  
“Street hockey, backyard baseball and boiled hot dogs,” Hopper replied. “I was there just last week to visit my parents before taking this assignment.”  
Irons smiled. “Why did you enlist?”  
“I don’t know. I got restless. Had to do something. I want to get involved in hybrid advocacy,” Hopper said.  
“Hybrid advocacy? That sounds like a new thing. When I was a child,” Irons made an amused noise, “more than 140 years ago, being a hybrid was… exotic, special. I got the princess treatment. I wouldn’t have identified you as a hybrid.”  
“I don’t have the look. It skipped over my father too,” Hopper said. “But my brothers and my baby sister have it. They’ve gotten bullied for it. By adults – who should know better. Last year I saw this subspace radio program and I guess it made me want to just meet a lot of hybrids and being a shuttle pilot on the Earth-Mars run seemed a good way to do that. Just getting to know people. I was wanting to go directly into advocacy, but when I heard that program with that Harvard professor, it just made it seem like the issues were far more complicated than I had realized. I wanted time to just think about it all. I must have read through Doctor Dolphin’s books a dozen times. I didn’t even realize Commander Dolphin was that Doctor Dolphin until I met him.”  
Irons laughed. “I will tell you a secret – and don’t you dare let this get back to Kenneth until I am confirmed to be in my grave so it doesn’t come back to haunt me…”  
Jennifer Hopper crossed herself.  
“Roman Catholic?” Irons asked.  
Hopper smiled. “Family tradition. I am from the Bronx, after all. But my dad told me the whole universe is Roman Catholic… He had this recording of a dozen different non-humans chanting – and it all sounded like it was in Latin. Even the binars – although in their case it sounded like mouse-Latin – or like mice squeaking in Latin... So what is this big secret?”

Irons stretched. She straightened her neck with some difficulty. “Just before I took command of the Hunter, I heard a rumor there was this hot-dog test pilot named Dolphin who was impressing everyone at the Utopia Planetia Shipyards – and I verified that it was, in fact, the one and only Dr. Kenny Dolphin of Harvard fame – or infamy. I pulled a few strings, had a number of the most experimental craft reclassified so that only Star Fleet officers would be able to fly them and the flight masters at UPS enticed him into going to Officer Candidate School because they wanted to see him flying the birds they had designed. I kept the Director of Flight Operations position on my ship open until he qualified for it and then recruited him onto the Hunter. He doesn’t know this, but it was no accident he ended up on my boat. Or in Star Fleet, for that matter.”  
“Why did you go to all that trouble?” Hopper asked. “Did you, like, know that he was going to be a great officer or something? The philosopher pilot?”  
Irons laughed. “That’s the real secret – why I did it… I did it on a whim. Because it amused me. I had a ship full of hybrids and I wanted to see him interact with them. And them with him. No big underlying motive. I just saw an opportunity to make things interesting on my boat. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I ever made. I wish I could take credit for how well it worked out, but I really just did it for the hell of it.”

22.4


	39. Episode 22.5 - Sacrifice: The Great Waterbirds of Pern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ,  
> Federation Council Leader Ushi Irons goes on a unique fishing trip - and ends up in a mountaintop rookery, sharing a kettle of fish and a beer with a family of giant talking waterbirds...
> 
>  _Ushi Irons settled into a chair, handed a beer to Mayor Ocompo and one to Dewayne Guth as Maa began cooking their fish. “On occasion I have found all the politics – the water I swim in – has become tiresome to me and I wonder why I go to such effort to get people to do what they should be doing anyway. This is why. So I can share a beer and a kettle of fish with a vulcan, a local mayor, a retired Star Fleet pilot and a family of giant talking birds.” He took a long pull of his beer and began laughing quietly._  
>  _“You ain’t seen nothing yet, sir,” said Guth..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> One of the things I really wanted to convey was the wonders of this Star Trek universe. And what could be more wondrous than a family of giant talking birds who are friendly to humans?  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 5: The Great Waterbirds of Pern

22.5  
The Great Waterbirds of Pern

The most powerful man in the Alpha Quadrant, the scion of two powerful Chinese families - one from Hong Kong and the other from Shanghai - was in a boat in the middle of a large lake, wearing a plaid flannel shirt, cutoff blue jeans that revealed pale white legs that had never seen the sun, and dirty white deck shoes without socks. His long, white hair was bundled under a blue ball cap that had a fish hook in it and bore the words “I’d Rather Be Fishing” in faded white letters.   
Which was precisely what he was doing. His long, wispy white beard spilled into his lap. In his hand was a fishing rod, the line was in the water – a red floater bobbing on the surface. Other than his hair and beard having long ago turned from black to white, his skin and his fine, aristocratic features betrayed almost no evidence that he was almost as old as his three fishing companions put together – a retired Star Fleet pilot, a teenage vulcan girl and a middle-aged Filipino woman who was the hops-master of a local brewery – who had provided the beer for this outing. She also happened to be the mayor of Pern, one of the 15,000 Cities of Cun Ling.

Four lines in the water. Four impassive fishers silently watching their lines. Facing four different directions. Four bottles of lukewarm beer being worked down slowly. A large bucket contained three fish on ice.

High above, four enormous waterbirds glided the thermals between the land and the edge of the lake, watching the water. They spotted what they were looking for and dived in sequence.

“There!” said Maa, alerting her (more-or-less) human companions to the giant waterbirds as they went into their dive. As Maa, Ushi Irons, Dewayne Guth and Tala Ocompo watched, the birds leveled out slightly as they approached the water, skimming the surface in the distance in formation at tremendous speed. Then all four entered the water simultaneously, only to come thrusting their way out of the water and into the sky, each carrying an enormous fish. The fish were fighting so hard that each bird’s flight pattern was altered and they had to fly away from each other to avoid being thrown into one another by the weight of the struggling fish held firmly in each bird’s talons.

With evident effort, each bird struggled to carry its fish into the sky. Once they were over the rocky beach, each bird got to an altitude of about 30 feet before dropping its fish onto the rocks, then swooped back down to carry their stunned ichthyoid prey skyward once again, toward their mountainside lairs.

“Got another one,” said Ushi, his rod bending under the weight of another fish. He quickly began reeling it in as Mayor Ocompo picked up the net scoop.  
“Fish seem to like you,” said Guth. “That’s three for my one and zero for the ladies. Are you certain you’ve never done this before?”  
Ushi worked with Ocompo to bring the fish in – a large variant of a trout. Once the fish was in the bucket, he picked up and drained his beer. “I have only ever made fun of this activity. I never expected to enjoy it.”  
“Destim will have a fire ready for us to cook these,” said Maa. “We will want to get there soon so we can watch him and his spouse feeding the babies.”   
Guth took the wheel and steered the boat toward one of the tall mountains that ringed the lake. The electric motor was nearly silent as it brought the boat up to speed – skimming across the lake on skids as its speed lifted the hull out of the water.   
Ushi and Tala began cleaning the fish, preparing them for cooking. Maa expertly gutted them, then placed each prepared fish into an individualized bag that contained oils, herbs and spices to flavor it in preparation for cooking.

As they approached the mountain, Guth slowed the boat, allowing the skids to retract and the hull to settle back into the water. He steered the boat into a cave. It took a few moments for the passengers’ eyes to adjust to the dim lighting inside the cavern. They travelled about a thousand meters into the cavern, following its twists and turns until they arrived at a small marina inside the mountain that supported about 20 boats. Guth and Ocompo tied the boat to one of the underground piers. Ushi picked up one of the coolers – Guth picked up the other. Maa slung the bags of fish over her shoulder as Mayor Ocompo led them to an elevator.

It was a long, dark, quiet and somewhat fishy-smelling elevator ride up to Destim’s nest near the top of the mountain. As they stepped out of the elevator, they could smell, then hear, see and feel a bonfire warming part of the nest and providing a column of aromatic smoke. Four chairs had been set out for them. In another area of the nest, Destim Ski and his mate were ripping bits of meat from an enormous fish and feeding them to their man-sized squawking fledglings – three of them.

Ushi Irons settled into a chair, handed a beer to Mayor Ocompo and one to Dewayne Guth as Maa began cooking their fish. “On occasion I have found all the politics – the water I swim in – has become tiresome to me and I wonder why I go to such effort to get people to do what they should be doing anyway. This is why. So I can share a beer and a kettle of fish with a vulcan, a local mayor, a retired Star Fleet pilot and a family of giant talking birds.” He took a long pull of his beer and began laughing quietly.  
“You ain’t seen nothing yet, sir,” said Guth. He got up and pulled two large bottles out of a nearby cabinet – each bottle nearly half his size – and with Mayor Ocompo’s help, wrangled them into an open area. Destim Ski and his mate, Ressa Nih walked over as Guth and Ocompo uncorked the bottles.

Although they were called waterbirds, Destim and Ressa appeared to be more closely related to pterosaurs. They walked as quadrupeds, using what appeared to be their elbows as well as their heavily clawed feet, their claws clicking lightly on the rock floor of their rookery. They were not feathered and relied on heavy flaps of skin for flight.   
Destim Ski closed his beak around the bottle, holding most of it in his mouth, then tipped it upward to drink from it. His mate followed suit, making odd, appreciative noises as they drank.  
A Boo was setting in the west and the planet’s brightest moon, Liu, was growing brighter in the east. As the sky grew dark, Ushi could see the glow and twinkling of hundreds of home fires on a mountain nearby, across a part of the lake. These lights were reflected in the water between the two mountains. 

“Mayor,” said Destim Ski in his deep, resonant voice, “Your jala leaves a very pleasing after image on the palate.”  
“It compares favorably with the jala on Cophus II,” Ressa chimed in. Her voice was equally low. The only way Ushi could tell male from female was that Destim Ski had a brightly colored crest near the back and top of his head that would open to reveal brilliant colors depending on his mood.

An incredibly deep, resonant sound began somewhere much lower on the mountainside. Other voices joined in, creating a sound like a great celestial pipe organ clearing its throat. Destim Ski lifted his beak, opening it wide, adding his voice to this enormous bass choir. His crest deployed fully – iridescent blues, greens and yellows reflecting the firelight. Then Ressa joined in – the sound was incredibly loud – vibrating Ushi’s chest.   
Gradually, softer, higher voices joined the chorus. At first, Ushi assumed these were the fledglings, but the fledglings remained silent. As Maa started singing, Ushi realized he was hearing vulcans singing with the giant waterbirds – then with a shock he realized they were all singing in Vulcan – their song a joint product of vulcan and waterbird culture. The poetry was vulcan. The incredibly dense and complex harmonies and melodies were unlike anything he had ever heard. Ushi could almost feel new neural pathways being created in his brain simply to handle the complexity of this music.  
The poetry was neither descriptive nor narrative – but evocative – suggesting a long lost childhood when the very concept of words themselves was new and wondrous – not a daily working reality, nor a lens to be seen through, but wonders in their own right. Then the song died away…

Only to be taken up from another mountain. In the distance, Ushi could hear hundreds more vulcans and waterbirds picking up the song and the poetry and carrying them forward in an act not of recitation, but of creation.

It was a wonder that his more than 80 years of life, travel, discovery and discipline had never prepared him for. The Federation’s most devious politician sat back in his chair in this mountainside rookery, stunned by this new experience, tears in his eyes, a look of wonder on his face, a forgotten bottle of beer slowly growing warm in his hand.

22.5


	40. Episode 22.6 - Sacrifice: The Balcony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Romulan Supreme Commander Sela interviews Justice Minerva Irons in advance of her trial before the Romulan Senate.
> 
>  _“Vulcan is a dying planet,” Sela said, still looking out to sea as Irons joined her at the rail... Sela turned and looked at her (mostly) human visitors. “In your stupidity and your immorality, you nearly destroyed Earth in your 21st Century. But even the most egregious of human neglect and greed was nothing compared to the barbarity and hatred of the vulcans for one another. Earth was able to recover... Vulcan has been slowly dying for a thousand years. This planet will eventually become uninhabitable... As much hate as you humans could manage to throw at one another, it never even began to compare to how much hate the vulcans had for each other. How much they hatred they had for themselves..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> There is an environmental message to this story  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 6: The Balcony

22.6  
The Balcony

As instructed, Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper brought the tiny shuttle craft down directly into the atrium of the newly constructed Imperial Administration Center on Vulcan, located a few hundred meters from the Regar Sea - the largest ocean on Vulcan. The building had 40 stories and was constructed from transparent plascrete. It wrapped around a large central garden in a rough horseshoe shape that was open to a beach leading down to the sea.

“No heroics, Hopper,” said Justice Minerva Irons. “There is nothing you can do for me – if you try, it will ruin my plans. The only way you make it out of here without becoming a slave is to assume all is lost and just play it straight.”  
“That is almost exactly what Commander Dolphin told me,” Hopper replied. “That and to be very respectful toward Supreme Commander Sela – never use her name or anyone’s name – only their titles.” She went through the shutdown sequence, secured the engine, then keyed the door. “I should exit first, your honor.”  
“Yes, you should.” Irons remained seated as Hopper stepped around her, having to bend over slightly because the shuttle was not large enough to stand up in. She turned and stepped out of the craft. “Leave the door open and hand the remote to the centurion, Flight Specialist,” Irons said.

Hopper held her hand out, the remote key to the shuttle in her hand. A number of romulan guards, led by a centurion surrounded the craft and the two women. The centurion looked at one of the guards. The guard stepped forward and held out her hand. Hopper tilted her hand, dropping the key into the guard’s hand.

“I know you speak Romulan,” said the centurion.   
“We both do,” Irons responded.  
The centurion registered only the slightest surprise, glancing at Hopper, then said, “You are to go to the balcony on the 14th floor. Please make your way directly there.”   
“Thank you, Centurion,” said Irons.

“No escort?” Hopper asked as they stepped away from the guards ringing the shuttle.   
“A show of strength on Sela’s part,” Irons responded. “Can you imagine a high level romulan operative being invited to walk, unescorted into the Federation Council building to meet with President Rodriguez on a balcony?”  
Hopper shook her head.  
“Supreme Commander Sela will be standing by the balcony rail when we arrive and she will be alone,” said Irons. “She will be wearing civilian clothing – probably a long gown. Do not make any false moves. She is quite capable of protecting herself.”  
“Commander Dolphin told me to resist temptation at every turn.”  
“I did not promote him twice for being reckless. I promoted him because he sees the clear path.”  
While the two women were not escorted into the building, there was no shortage of observers. It was evident that the romulans had been ordered to leave the two women alone to move at their own pace and at will. It was equally evident they were uncomfortable with those orders.

The entire ground floor served as a lobby. Although the large, open ground floor was filled with people – mostly romulan, but several vulcans and humans as well – the two women were afforded a wide berth. When they chose an elevator, everyone else on the floor chose a different one. Their ride to the 14th floor was a solitary one.   
The 14th floor was apparently one large office and apartment suite and was entirely vacant. It was only a few meters from the elevator to the balcony. Just as Irons had predicted, Supreme Commander Sela was dressed in an emerald green gown - but of a different cut from the one Irons had seen her wearing on the I.R.W. Bestia. She was leaning on the rail of the balcony, looking out to sea.  
  
“Vulcan is a dying planet,” Sela said, still looking out to sea as Irons joined her at the rail. “This is not my first time to look at this ocean. Even with all the passion the humans have poured into saving this planet, it is still dying.”  
Hopper hung back near the door.  
“Step up to the rail and look at it, young human,” said Sela. “So little life along the shore. So little life in that ocean.” Sela turned and looked at her (mostly) human visitors. “In your stupidity and your immorality, you nearly destroyed Earth in your 21st Century. But even the most egregious of human neglect and greed was nothing compared to the barbarity and hatred of the vulcans for one another. Earth was able to recover.” 

Sela looked back out to sea as Jennifer Hopper walked up to the rail – put her hands on it – looked out to sea. There were no ships. No one was swimming or surfing. No signs of life. “Vulcan has been slowly dying for a thousand years. This planet will eventually become uninhabitable. The human passion and contrition that saved Earth cannot save Vulcan. The poisons the vulcans used in their last world war were too potent. They have tried for a thousand years to extract them, but those poisons got spread everywhere by the water and have caused a deadly ongoing chain reaction in the soil. It just keeps getting worse. Their weapons worked better than they were designed to. As much hate as you humans could manage to throw at one another, it never even began to compare to how much hate the vulcans had for each other. How much they hatred they had for themselves. You know the story of Surak, who finally led the vulcan people to peace and logic, teaching them to rigorously suppress their emotions. It’s part of what you humans love about vulcans. Their cold dispassionate logic.”  
Sela turned to look at Irons. “You are part vulcan, but you don’t suppress your emotions. There are more and more of you – you have taken the poison of the vulcans into your species. You have taken their poison into your very blood, and left the antidote on the table.”  
“Without their emotional self-control, vulcans are monsters. You are a quarter vulcan, but you do not discipline yourself. Is that how you came to be such a monster, Justice Irons?”  
Sela paused, then focused on Jennifer Hopper, looking at her closely. “Come here, child.”  
Hopper walked around Irons, stepped in front of the romulan supreme commander. She managed a relaxed humility. “You were very well chosen for this assignment,” Sela said. “Just the right combination of humility and self-possession. Do you speak?”  
“To tell the truth, I am frightened out of my wits, Supreme Commander. I don’t know whether to stand at attention or curtsey,” said Hopper.  
Sela laughed lightly. “You are also part vulcan?”  
“No, Supreme Commander. My grandfather is romulan.”  
“One of my admirals?”  
“A commander, I believe,” said Hopper.  
“I thought romulans were prohibited from service in Star Fleet,” Sela observed.  
“Star Fleet had only allowed romulans and people of romulan descent to serve in Star Fleet Intelligence,” Hopper replied. “Then, 10 years ago when Admiral El Fadil became Chief of Staff, he pushed through a policy change. Romulans are now allowed to serve in every command within Star Fleet as long as we are Federation citizens or receive a recommendation from a command level officer.”  
“Very interesting. Return to where you were, child,” said Sela.

Sela turned toward Irons again. “You will be tried. Your trial will be broadcast. You will implicate Star Fleet in the destruction of Gamorlan and the death of thousands of romulans.”

“I will do all those things, Supreme Commander. And I will give you far more. I will give with both hands,” said Irons. “But there is a price.”  
“You will not go free,” said Sela.  
“No,” Irons replied. She took a deep breath. “No, I have recently realized that I have not been free for a very long time. But I will escape. Probably immediately after the trial. And after I escape, you will send our pilot back to us, unmolested.”  
“That is what you selected her for. To test me?” Sela was clearly holding an icy fury very carefully in check.  
Irons was simply exhausted. “No, Supreme Commander. We selected her to be a coin. A coin with which you will purchase the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems. Al D. 3, Al D. 4 and Al J. 4 are all suitable for the transplantation of Saketh. You are aware of the U.S.S. Ark?”  
“A weapon beyond imagination,” said Sela. “We are prepared to destroy it.”  
“You would be destroying your future,” Irons replied. “The Ark was created to remove all life, all the soil, all the water, all of the atmosphere from Saketh and transplant them to Al D. 3, Al D. 4 and Al J. 4. Saketh is the only superplanet left in romulan space. It could live, except for the wave of gamma radiation headed toward it. In less than 300 years, Saketh will be sterilized.”   
“And you know,” rejoined Sela, “that the star systems you call Al Donovos and Al Jenova will be sterilized in just over 3,000 years by gamma waves from the same source.”  
“Not if we can repair the machine,” said Irons.  
“You don’t think we have considered that?” asked Sela - her icy fury just a little closer to the surface. “The only people who could repair that machine are the people who built it.”  
“The borg,” said Irons.  
“And you don’t think we had considered using them?” Sela was no longer concealing her anger.  
“It turns out that we may have some resources that you might not have been able to include in your consideration. Not technology,” Irons added, anticipating Sela’s response, “Personnel. We have a few people who are immune to the borg nanites. And who have some very unusual abilities.”  
“You would need an emancipated borg to be able to rework their base code…” Sela started.  
“We have one of those,” Irons replied.

Sela closed her eyes, rolled her head back, sighed, letting her anger drain from her. “Even with all of that, your plan might have worked if you could make a bargain with their queen. But she is dead. The borg have not fared well since the destruction of their transwarp conduit. They are not the power they once were. You saw their ships - those are among the best they have to offer. There just are not enough of them left to get this job done.”  
“You have a long term plan. Romulan nomads.” Irons looked at Sela. “How many of your people would be left behind to starve or die from gamma radiation?”  
“What are you driving at?” Sela asked.  
“I told you, I have become a monster. Not just for your people, but for mine as well.”  
Sela took a long breath, looked at Irons closely, evaluating her. “I will not allow you to escape.”  
“I would not expect you to, Supreme Commander,” Irons replied levelly. “But when I do escape, remember: Flight Specialist Hopper is the price. She is the key to the future of your people.”   
“I was not looking forward to putting you on trial, given your age. You are old and tired, Minerva Irons. But listening to your bluster, I am beginning to have more of an appetite for this trial,” said Sela.  
“Oh, I will give you a memorable trial,” Irons replied. “Together, you and I will create a legend. A terror that your people will never forget.”

22.6


	41. Episode 22.7 - Sacrifice: Sweet Madam Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Dr. Sarekson Carrera recruits two new allies to help him with the monumental task of saving all life in the Alpha Quadrant...
> 
>  _“You know my name, and you propose to name my, well, my child. Who are you?”_  
>  _“Ah, my apologies, we first met a long time from now. It is so easy to be neglectful when an old friend is meeting you for the first time. I am Doctor Sarekson Carrera and I have a very difficult job ahead of me. I will need your help – yours and Minerva’s..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I have been told I have a very chaotic, ping-pong storytelling style. There is a madness in my method... The new creature introduced in this scene will become crucial as the story progresses. We will get back to Justice Irons and her trial on Vulcan for her crimes agains the Romulan people...
> 
> In other news, I have just completed drafting the final scene for this series. I am still editing, but the story is getting wrapped up.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 7: Sweet Madam Blue

22.7  
Sweet Madam Blue

Penelope was an extraordinarily kind hearted soul, which made her very, very good at her job. She could read each client and know exactly what they needed. Her clients were male, female and a few were rather indeterminate or were in transition. Most of them could only afford a weekend of her attentions – and that only a few times a year. Some took a 2- or 3- week vacation to spend in her care. Many of her clients were married and some of them came as couples for the therapy she provided.  
It was very useful that a few powerful U.S. and Ohio State Treasury officials as well as a talented accountant or two were among her clients as she was invariably audited every year. Another of her clients served on the medical review board that certified her business model every year. Penelope was a medical doctor and had doctorates in psychology, psychiatry and sex therapy. Her services were quite expensive and her client list rather exclusive. She did have a few particularly desperate clients who were unable to pay to whom she provided her services in return for keeping her rather magnificent home and gardens clean and in good order. She cared deeply for each of her clients, whether rich or impecunious. Giving meaning to their lives gave meaning to hers.  
Considering the rather puritanical nature of Middle America in the late 20th Century, Penelope might have had serious problems with the local religious establishments, or the police, or various arms of local, state and federal government, but discounts for well-placed clients and a little bit of extra attention provided to key clients kept all of these various forces at bay.

But Penelope was living a double life.

She was a lucid dreamer – she remembered her waking life in detail while dreaming and remembered every detail of her dreams while awake. These exceptionally lucid dreams had begun when she was a little girl. At first all she remembered was a vague blue haze. Gradually, she began to identify with the blue haze and after a year or so she was able to turn her dreaming awareness outward. She had thought at first she had been dreaming that she was swimming. But there was nothing to swim through. Nothing to push against.   
Her dreaming self had companions. And none of them were blue. Their skin was dark brown and they were enormous - each the size of a fair-sized house. Larger than the house that Penelope had grown up in. As she grew up, she had realized she could communicate with them and hear their communication with one another. Well – it didn’t exactly involve hearing... They didn’t think small, human thoughts. They thought gigantic, whale thoughts. She finally decided to call them whales. Space whales.  
Penelope quickly learned to keep these dreams to herself. They seemed innocent enough at first, but they were too different from the way that other people dreamed. She never felt like she was sleeping. It felt more like she was waking to anther life. Every nap, every moment she was asleep, her friends were there, swimming with her. Not swimming – flying through the stars. There was a baby. And they were depending on Penelope to help raise her. A baby whale.

It was an odd double life – the most complicated and involved life a human could live juxtaposed with an alternate life of pure freedom and complete innocence. Each life was the perfect counterpart to the other. Her job as nanny for the baby whale – to help shape its morality – came naturally to her – a simple, nurturing, life-giving ethos. The whales lived simple lives, grazing on asteroids to collect water, molten, inner planets to collect minerals and basking in the coronas of stars, to store up energy for their next interstellar journey.  
Penelope was not human during these times. She could be dispersed over more than a thousand square meters or condensed into a tight blue field. As a human, she had a fair idea what she was - flesh and blood. Her incarnation as an indistinct blue haze was a complete mystery to her.

She first became aware of the presence of a human interloper because the baby became unsettled. It was nearly 20 years old now, so baby was no longer really fair, but Penelope still felt very protective. Somehow, she felt it had been her purpose to raise this child emotionally and while it was no longer a baby, it was not yet an adult. It had never occurred to her to actually go inside her charge, but that was clearly what it was now wanting her to do.  
Moving her presence into the baby was very much like going anywhere else in space. She was astounded to find an environment inside the baby that was created for human habitation. What on the outside appeared to be a supple whale, flexing with each change of direction, on the inside looked like a mid-20th Century coochi-lounge – all dark reds and golds – a warm, seductive place. A large, dark orange, semi-circular couch more or less faced a curved, ovular viewscreen – or perhaps window – Penelope was not quite certain. Through this window, the stars and other members of the whale herd could be seen.  
She had a strong feeling that the small, bald, dark skinned man wearing khakis, Wellingtons and a leather jacket belonged there – as much as she did – perhaps more. This feeling bothered her greatly. He looked South American to her. He was relaxing on the couch as if he had been there forever. Penelope found herself molding her appearance to resemble her human form, complete with the clothing she most often wore, but skin, clothing, shoes and all remained a consistent shade of light blue.

“Hello Lavardorn Avatar,” said her South American interloper, relieving her of her concern about needing to dig up Spanish that she had last used more than a decade ago. He sat up and looked at her as her form solidified. “Do you know just what you are?”  
Penelope had never spoken while in her non-corporeal hazy blue incarnation, but now, having assumed a human-like form, she found that she could speak. “No.” It was a timid squeak, not her usual, low, carefully cultivated sultry tones. She had grown used to being in control of every situation. She was used to people being naked to her – completely vulnerable and exposed. For the first time in more than a decade, she felt naked and exposed. She could craft her form to resemble a human wearing clothing, but the reality was there could be no clothing for this blue form. This odd sense of vulnerability was increased by an instinct that, although she had no clue what she actually was, it was clear her interlocutor did.  
“I am human,” Penelope managed, still learning how to control this voice – a voice she had never used because she had never even been aware that she had it.  
“And so am I. To all appearances. But I am somewhat more than human. You are much, much more than human. The creature we currently inhabit has many names. Most of them are far too long for convenient conversational use. Call her a lavardorn. It is close enough to the first three syllables of the name her race’s creators used for their creation. And you are her avatar. Do you know where we are?”  
“I have no idea,” Penelope replied.  
“We call this galaxy NGC 55," her South American interlocutor responded. "It is the home galaxy for lavardorn, although they have spread to several neighboring galaxies over the past 50 million years. You seem to think of these creatures as space whales – entirely coincidentally, NGC 55 is also known as the Whale Galaxy. This species is about 700 million years old. Recently – meaning in the past 150 million years – some of them have developed a method of travel so fast that we do not have any adequate means of measuring it. This creature is one of the fastest and she is just now coming into her own. Her pod has selected her to be the first to populate the Milky Way. Soon, you and she will leave this pod and make your way across the vast gulf of intergalactic space – about 6.5 million light years to our home galaxy – your home galaxy. This is why the pod chose to embed an avatar in a human – you are Minerva’s beacon – her true north.”  
“Minerva?” Penelope asked.  
“Well, we should name her, and Minerva is the goddess of wisdom. The protector of life. It would be a fitting name, don’t you think, Penelope?”

“You know my name, and you propose to name my, well, my child. Who are you?”

“Ah, my apologies, we first met a long time from now. It is so easy to be neglectful when an old friend is meeting you for the first time. I am Doctor Sarekson Carrera and I have a very difficult job ahead of me. I will need your help – yours and Minerva’s. Unfortunately, I will never get to meet your human incarnation – at least not your current one. You will carry the memories of each humanoid incarnation from one lifetime into the next. Your job will be to keep Minerva sane on her very long voyage to the Milky Way. That is the reason for your double life. Your human life will ground you so that you can, in turn, keep Minerva grounded. You are the first incarnation of Minerva’s avatar.”  
“So, I will be, um, reincarnated?” Penelope asked.  
“In a way," Carrera mused. "The human Penelope will die like any human. But you will carry her memories as you are reborn into another inhabitant of the Milky Way. Reborn several times among several different species on several different worlds. I have noticed two things in common among Minerva’s avatars – you are invariably female and invariably extraordinarily kind, compassionate souls. Which makes me curious about your human self. I have known you to be a nurse, a psychiatrist, a lawyer – always someone who takes care of others and cares deeply for them. But I do not know what your first incarnation was… is… sorry – the English language was never designed to manage non-linear temporal phenomena. So what does the human Penelope do?”

“Actually, it is Mistress Penelope, Doctor Carrera. I am a professional dominatrix…”

22.7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Mistress Penelope  
> Human Ethnicity: Mexican  
> Additional Species: Lavardorn Avatar  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Columbus, Ohio / NGC 55 (The Whale Galaxy)  
> Introduced: Episode 22.7  
> Age when introduced: 29  
> Role: Professional Dominatrix / Lavardorn Avatar


	42. Episode 22.8 - Sacrifice: The Shadowhounds of Avradega

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shadowhounds pursue Andorian rebels

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 8: The Shadowhounds of Avradega

22.8  
The Shadowhounds of Avradega

Like many species native to Andoria, the shadowhounds of Avradega had antennae that served a variety of purposes from fine perception of temperature variances to chemical sampling beyond the olfactory senses, an exceptional sense of balance, atmospheric vibrations too subtle to be heard and a keen sense of light and shadow that affected the fine muscles along their backs, sides and tails which in turn raised fur of different colors that gave these animals superb, flowing camouflage. Unlike andorians, the shadowhounds’ antennae were long and whiplike, laying back across their bodies. Shadowhounds looked somewhat like a cross between a hyena and a cheetah with a 1970’s era muscle car. As fast as andorians could run (considerably faster than humans), the shadowhounds were much, much faster and nearly invisible, even when running in the open.

In the great forest of Avradega, the shadowhounds ran silently and unseen across a light dusting of snow beneath snow-covered trees. What natural selection had gifted them with, centuries of breeding had refined. The ragtag group of andorians running from the shadowpack – although running much faster than humanly possible – had no chance against such pursuers. When they came to a ravine, the four youngest hesitated and were quickly pinned down by pursuing shadowhounds. The others – about 20 andorians – leapt into the ravine without hesitation.  
Had this been a terrestrial ravine, none of the runners would have survived. But Avradega was a moon that was only ¾ the mass of Earth. Even so, few humans could have made such a leap and continued running. But these were andorians – lighter, tougher, and gifted with superhuman balance due to their antennae. All but two who made the leap landed on their feet and, taking the enormous leap in stride, kept running. The two who stumbled did not get a chance to get back up – shadowhounds landed on them and kept them pinned. The remainder of the shadowpack followed seamlessly after the runners with even less interruption in their stride – as if they had simply hopped over a fallen log.  
Had these been wild shadowhounds, the runners (mostly children) who were pinned would have been ripped apart. But this shadowpack was a highly trained SAR (Search and Retrieval) pack. Utterly silent in pursuit, once an SAR shadowhound had its prey firmly pinned, it would utter a low-pitched, powerful vibration, not unlike the purr of a large, terrestrial cat. This powerful vibration activated a beacon embedded in the animal’s chest which alerted its handlers to beam the shadowhound into a handling area and its quarry into a holding cell. The handler calmed the animal, reset its beacon, then sent it immediately back to the location from which it had been beamed out, there to rejoin the hunt.

From the beginning of this SAR operation, it took less than 20 minutes to round up the last known members of Andoria First in the Andor star system and the captives were quickly transported to a prison in Laibok (the capital of the forest moon of Avradega) to await trial.

22.8


	43. Episode 22.9 - Sacrifice: An Imperial Request

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The blind Andorian Emperor, Sin IV, is rolling up the last of the Andoria First rebels and at the same time making astute political moves within the Federation...
> 
> _Ivonovic’s personal secretary looked up with apprehension. She had seen the emperor a few times and was terrified of him. She had never spoken to him. She was used to Ivonovic having many dangerous and increasingly strange friends, but the newly legendary tyrant of the Andorian Empire was by far the strangest and most terrifying to her. The blind emperor leaned in close to her. His odd, blind eyes looked directly into hers - the irises and pupils of his eyes only partially formed. She felt a chill run up her spine. A nightmare creature in a blue pinstriped three-piece suit..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> One of the fun things for me in writing this series is to flesh out the political systems that make the Federation possible. The four most important are United Earth Governments (a democratic republic) the Andorian Empire (an absolute monarchy) the Vulcan High Command (a meritocracy) and the Bolian Web (an aristocratic oligarchy).
> 
> When I created the character of Emory Ivonovic I had every intention of taking him from seedy local politician to the heights of power within the Federation...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 9: An Imperial Request  
  


22.9  
An Imperial Request

“It seems you have rolled up the Andoria First movement across most of your empire.” Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic was in his new office near the top of the Federation Council Building. He easily had enough support to take the leadership position for the Homeworld Coalition - now the largest coalition in the council - but he did not want it. He had become a reliable vote wrangler for Council Leader Chelna Yaalleiysei. “What kind of assistance are you looking for from Star Fleet?”

Unlike Ushi Irons’ enormous, sparsely furnished, sun-drenched office, Ivonovic’s office had the warm, classic look of a 19th Century manor. There was a sofa set near an artificial fire, a conference table with a number of chairs, his desk dominated another quarter of the room and a small group of plush chairs organized near several bookcases that were filled with books. Ivonovic and Emperor Sin IV were seated in two of these chairs - clearly Ivonovic’s favorite corner of this large, comfortable office.

The blind emperor was dressed in a hand crafted dark blue 3-piece suit with gold pinstripes - which looked weird on a pale, blind andorian - his antennae moving sharply, deliberately - he looked like a strange white bug in a suit. “We are looking for Star Fleet to aggressively enforce the Gagarin Treaty. The only significant Andoria First group remaining within the Andorian Empire is on Weythan, which, as you know, is also a vulcan colony and a stronghold for Vulcan First. This, along with the system’s proximity to Vulcan, makes Weythan a prime target for romulan aggression. Weythan must be kept in the Andorian Empire, in the Vulcan Command in Exile, and within the Federation. When we move to re-take Weythan, we will be vulnerable to the Praetorian Guard. We need Star Fleet to watch our back.”  
“I am concerned about Star Fleet’s ability to face any of the romulan war birds with their current fleet,” said Ivonovic. “The Ark would make short work of one - probably five or more. And the Milky Way. Three more of the Ark class and five more of the Milky Way are under construction, but what we have now is about 40 of those Prowler class.”  
“A bug in a suit…” Emperor Sin IV laughed. “You underestimate bugs. You should talk to your friend. He has been flying one of those bugs.” The emperor stood up. “I am quite pleased with this suit. A human fashion, but reinvented for my build. It is the most comfortable clothing I have ever worn. Andorians are built differently from humans. I have engaged Gillano and Sons to re-design my imperial robes. If they could do so well making a human suit fit me, maybe they can make my robes fit properly as well. I would never have expected such excellence from the Colony of New Hope. I think you fail to adequately appreciate the resources at your disposal, Esteemed Councilmember.”

“I meant no disrespect, emperor…” Ivonovic rose.

“I do not hold you responsible for your passing thoughts,” said the emperor. “I will go so far as to admit you would find mine no more flattering. If we do not allow ourselves this indulgence, we would take out the hate we have been taught to lavish on ourselves on others who are different from us – so different that all we can see is reflections of ourselves.”  
“The selves we have been taught to hate?” Ivonovic smiled. The emperor was well known to speak in riddles – a part of the charisma that held his people in such sway.  
“If we loved ourselves too well, we could not function as social animals,” Sin IV mused.  
“And so we are taught to hate ourselves?” Ivonovic asked.  
“When have you ever known something that must be done not to be done to extreme excess?' the blind emperor responded. "I remember your thoughts when I had Premiere Saoron arrested to save his life from the Romulan Senate. It was your plan, including all the embellishments. And it was a brilliant plan. But you were sickened by it. Sickened by my people – by our antennae – but that was only a reflection of how you felt about yourself. It was a devious plan and you are a devious man. Now I have one for you.”  
Ivonovic smiled. “A devious plan?”  
“Alas, the plan is not mine,” Emperor Sin IV replied. “I am not so devious a creature as advertised. This plan comes from the master of secrets, Ushi Irons. It appears Minerva Irons is convinced that we must provide the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems to the Romulan Star Empire to prevent the sack of Trillus Prime and Betazed. More importantly, her children believe her. And so do I.”  
“We cannot do that!” Ivonovic nearly exploded. “Never again! We cannot retreat before the romulans - we would be ceding half of the Neutral Zone!”  
“Your response was accurately predicted by our great friend, Ushi the puppet master.” The emperor laughed. “I will provide the votes to make it happen from the Federal coalition. Your job will be to fire up the Homeworld coalition against it. Rise to great heights. Ride the wave. This is the moment created for you.”  
“This will destroy Ushi. I will see to that,” said Ivonovic.  
“He expects nothing less,” said Sin. “Did you know that he considers you the greatest internal threat to the future of the Federation? You are not a hereditary tyrant, like I am. You are a demagogue. A rabble rouser. A common man who has risen to create a cult of personality. The greatest threat any democracy faces. And this will be Ushi’s legacy. He considers it quite the irony.”  
“He’s wheeling and dealing behind the scenes to give Federation space to the Romulan Star Empire and he considers me the threat to the Federation?” Ivonovic was nearly apoplectic.  
“I will leave you with this, Emory,” said Sin. “You stand within a breath of realizing your greatest ambition. And you are angry with the man who is handing it to you on a silver platter. Along with his own head. Ushi asked me if you can handle this. If you are smart enough… If you are humble enough…” Emperor Sin IV’s antennae were focused intently on Ivonovic. Ivonovic could almost feel the emperor rooting about in his head. “Are you?”

The Andorian Emperor exited Ivonovic’s office, leaving the councilmember seething inside. He stopped at Joanna’s desk. Ivonovic’s personal secretary looked up with apprehension. She had seen the emperor a few times and was terrified of him. She had never spoken to him. She was used to Ivonovic having many dangerous and increasingly strange friends, but the newly legendary tyrant of the Andorian Empire was by far the strangest and most terrifying to her. The blind emperor leaned in close to her. His odd, blind eyes looked directly into hers - the irises and pupils of his eyes only partially formed. She felt a chill run up her spine. A nightmare creature in a blue pinstriped three-piece suit.

“Emory is in a bad mood," the emperor said to Joanna. "But he knows that I speak the truth. Thank him for me for this suit. It is quite an amusing gift. Your idea, if I am not mistaken?”  
The emperor paused as Joanna nodded - then smiled as an expression of confusion crossed her face as she remembered that he was blind.  
“Um, I mean…” she started.  
“Thank you. It has provided me a valuable lesson,” Sin interrupted. He briefly touched her forehead as if giving a blessing. Considering how thin, pale and… well… bug-like he was, she was surprised at how smooth and warm his hand was. “Good night, Joanna.”

22.9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Joanna Trevor  
> Human Ethnicity: English  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Charity, The Colony of New Hope  
> Introduced: Episode 22.9  
> Age when introduced: 25  
> Role: Paralegal and Administrative Assistant for Emory Ivonovic


	44. Episode 22.10 - Sacrifice: The Witness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Justice Minerva Irons and Flight Specialist Jessica Hopper discuss the history of Vulcan as they await the trial...
> 
>  _“Is it true? What Sela said about this planet being a dying planet?”_  
>  _“Most vulcans seem to have given up on their home planet,” Irons mused. “But there are tens of millions of human biologists living here now, trying to save the planet. They have worked miracles in the past few hundred years, but they haven’t been able to keep up with the chain reactions from the poisons used in the last war. Now there are more than a billion romulans here and they have brought biological resources from Romulus with them... Oddly, it is entirely possible that the fall of Vulcan to the Romulan Senate might be the only thing that possibly could save this planet..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I want to thank a fellow storyteller for letting me borrow her ants for this story...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 10: The Witness

22.10  
The Witness

There was no lock on the door – as was the case with most houses on Vulcan. This was a very small house in a very large garden. The windows were open, but the sea air, while not rancid, was not refreshing either. For nearly a thousand years, the dying biosphere of Vulcan had relied increasingly on enormous machines to maintain the balance of oxygen, carbon dioxide and other gasses in the atmosphere and the waters because there just wasn’t enough life left to do the job. The last great planetary war had poisoned the planet’s lungs. Vulcan was a dying planet on life support and the air smelled like it.   
Under the leadership of the great philosopher Surak, the vulcan people had finally come to their senses. Too late.

“There is an enormous… I think it’s some sort of ant,” said Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper. She was looking at a greenish, vaguely ant-like creature about twice the size of her thumb on the open windowsill of a small room that served as a kitchen-dinette.  
Justice Minerva Irons was in the other room – a sparsely furnished bedroom with two small beds. “How many legs does it have?”  
“Four.”  
“If it’s kind of a greenish black, it is a garden ant. They are very poisonous, but not aggressive. Just make sure you don’t sit on any,” Irons responded.  
“That isn’t very comforting,” said Hopper. She carefully investigated the room, checking for any others. The ant on the windowsill retreated outside.  
Irons walked into the room to find the young pilot pointing at the windowsill. “It just went back outside…”  
Irons smiled and retrieved a glass of water. She sat at the table. “They were bred for docility. They’re hunters – they prefer the outdoors. And their primary prey are sand ants, which are just as poisonous, but far more aggressive. They’re also the principle pollinators. They were bred to provide that function as well after the nail bats became extinct.”

“Is it true? What Sela said about this planet being a dying planet?” Hopper asked.  
“Most vulcans seem to have given up on their home planet,” Irons mused. “But there are tens of millions of human biologists living here now, trying to save the planet. They have worked miracles in the past few hundred years, but they haven’t been able to keep up with the chain reactions from the poisons used in the last war. Now there are more than a billion romulans here and they have brought biological resources from Romulus with them. Romulans are a passionate people – possibly even more passionate than humans. If they can work together, and if they have a lot of luck, and if the biological resources from dead Romulus are close enough to what is left of living Vulcan, maybe they can save this planet. Oddly, it is entirely possible that the fall of Vulcan to the Romulan Senate might be the only thing that possibly could save this planet. Did you notice our honor guard?”  
“Honor guard?” asked Hopper.  
“The guards outside that door are not Romulan Star Navy – they’re Praetorian Guard," Irons replied. "They aren’t stationed there to keep us. Their job is to keep us from harm. You might not have noticed because of the helmets, but one of them was vulcan and at least three more were some blend of human and vulcan. It seems the Senate is serious about reunification. I saw it in the propaganda posters at the entrance to the Romulan Star Navy headquarters. This installation feels less like a military headquarters and more like an embassy. The romulans have already become two people – the republic on Vulcan and the remainder of the old empire.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jennifer Hopper looked up. “I was expecting we would be put in a prison. Why are we being treated so well?”

“Propaganda for Federation consumption," said Irons. "There will be video of us being held here. And you will be released to return to the federation with stories of Supreme Commander Sela’s power, courage and magnanimity. And I want you to faithfully report those things. They will facilitate better relations which both our people will need. If the romulans must be our antagonists – and I am certain they will be for quite some time – it is better that they be an enemy we can respect and admire, just as the klingons were a hundred years ago.”  
“But it is just a show…”  
“Of course it is just a show, Jennifer. But what a show! Can you imagine any federation leader who would dare to treat a suspected terrorist this way? I can’t imagine Chancellor Martok getting away with it in front of the Klingon Council. The fact that Sela can do this and not risk a coup tells you just how powerful she is. She isn’t just doing this for our benefit. She is letting her own people know how powerful she is.”

_* Special thanks to ProxiCentauri (PC) from An Archive Of Our Own (AO3) for allowing me to use the insects PC invented for PC’s story “Insects”, published on AO3. I will add notation when other PC romulan insects show up._

22.10


	45. Episode 22.11 - Sacrifice: Buzz Conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov calls a conference to determine how best to protect the Andorian Imperial Guard from a potential attack by the Romulan Praetorian Guard...
> 
>  _“That plus the Hunter and the Prowler,” Dolphin rejoined. “That speed is a force multiplier. If the romulans come from two different directions, we can deal with one fleet, then pivot to another.”_  
>  _“With the weaponry you carry, you might was well be throwing rocks at them,” said Chekov._  
>  _“Actually, that’s precisely what we’re going to do...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I use name generators to come up with names for minor characters. I wanted the captain of the U.S.S. Milky Way to be Indonesian. It turns out that a common first name for Indonesian men is Suparman (with an "a"). Captain Suparman Saldana Budi's middle name is an easter egg...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 101: Buzz Conference

22.11  
Buzz Conference

Commander Kenneth Dolphin tried very hard not to stare at the new captain of the U.S.S. Intrepid. He had been looking forward to and dreading the moment he would see Captain Red again. She had cut her long hair short, but it still managed a wild curly, spiky appearance. She was the kind of woman who was aggressively beautiful regardless of her hairstyle, but this one seemed to capture her fiery, temperamental nature.

The small conference room on the U.S.S. Milky Way was called the Buzz Aldrin Room and a select group currently occupied it. Along with Commander Dolphin and Captain Red were Captain Sagittarius Hunter of the U.S.S. Prowler, Captain Elaine Nichols of the U.S.S. Pierre, Captain Suparman Saldana Budi of the U.S.S. Milky Way and Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov.

Chekov was the first to speak: “Commandant Barrett th’Zoarhi has tasked us with developing effective countermeasures to a potential takeover of the Weythan colony by romulan forces. That would be reasonably easy to do if we had another 15 or so Milky Way class starships, but at the moment there are only five under construction and they will not be ready for another few months. What we do have is not enough Escort class, fewer still of the Intrepid class and a whole lot of Prowler class starships. But these are scattered on missions throughout the federation. We can’t just let them sit anywhere. Ideas?”  
Chekov looked around the room, not bothering to hide the impatience in his face.  
“And we have nearly 2,000 long range interceptors,” said Captain Red.  
“Pissants!” Chekov exploded.  
“As my father used to say,” said Dolphin, “Enough pissants will eat an elephant.”  
“What is this cornpone wisdom?” scoffed Chekov. “I thought you were from Rhode Island, not the Appalachians.”  
“Actually, I think Captain Hunter is from West Virginia,” said Dolphin testily.

“Harper’s Ferry, the midpoint of the Appalachian Trail…” Captain Sagittarius Hunter started.  
“I don’t care whether you’re from the south end of a northbound mule…” Chekov groused.

“Interceptors have a vital role to play if we want to keep the romulans from taking over Weythan,” said Dolphin. “It would be a good idea to station about 400 pilots there and keep at least 100 interceptors in low-energy orbit. Keep them manned at all times.”  
“In space, the romulans have a huge advantage – those big honking ships,” Dolphin continued. “But the real fight for control of the colony won’t be in space. It will be on the ground. The romulans have some landing craft, some mining craft and even some in-atmosphere fighters, but nothing that can operate effectively in atmosphere that has a warp engine. Star Fleet interceptors are not as brawny as what the andorians have been building, or the orions. But what they lack in shields and firepower, they more than make up for in speed, maneuverability and most importantly, inertial dampening, meaning our pilots can pull stunts that no one else can match. And there is a squadron of pilots who are very motivated not to give another inch of vulcan ground to the romulans…”

“The vulcans,” said Red.

“Don’t think for a second that vulcans don’t have emotions that you can appeal to,” Dolphin continued. “I’m living proof they do. I’ve had more than a half-dozen of them rooting around in my brain – spent nearly two whole weeks enmeshed in a mind-meld with one. Those vulcan interceptor pilots that Admiral Senvol betrayed – they may look cool on the surface, but deep down I’d wager they are itching for some serious payback.”  
“Okay, blondie,” said Chekov. “I’m listening. What else do you have for me?”  
“A little over a year ago,” said Dolphin, “I was in a meeting with Commandant th’Zoarhi, Council Leaders Ushi Irons and Chelna Yaalleiysei and Councilmember Emory Ivonovic. The Commandant originally asked for an initial build of 88 Prowler class starships, which, with the Hunter and the Prowler would have given us 90 of them. As it was, they only approved an initial build of 44.”  
“Useless,” said Chekov. “Those little pissants don’t have enough power in their phasers to even tickle a romulan warbird. And how did you get into a meeting with that crowd? What are you doing, dropping names?”  
“At the time, I was Emory’s lawyer,” said Dolphin. “And remember, the U.S.S. Hunter has gone up against those warbirds and survived. But that’s not my point. At that meeting, Ushi asked the Commandant what the Council’s blind spot was and she said it was speed…”  
“You’re just dropping names now,” said Chekov, impatiently. “Don’t tell me you’re on a first name basis with both Councilmember Ivonovic and Council Leader Irons, Commander…” Chekov emphasized Dolphin’s rank.  
It was Dolphin’s turn to look exasperated, then he let it go and just shrugged, made an amused noise. “Well, my captain is Ushi’s mother. He and I argued a bit last week and I’ve heard he only bothers to argue with people he likes. He just left us to go to Pern with Dewayne – Ambassador Guth. I think they were going fishing.”  
Chekov snorted. “I keep forgetting who you rub shoulders with, Goldilocks. Okay, so what was so important about this meeting?”  
“It was what the Commandant said – the secret is speed. Captain Hunter, have your tests of the Alstars solution worked?”  
“Call me Sage,” said Captain Hunter. “The tests were successful and we have now gotten the entire Prowler class into recursive warp – safely if the readings are to be believed.”   
“Just make sure if you have any math geniuses onboard that they aren’t studying the progenitors’ math proofs and you should be safe,” said Dolphin. “Here’s the point,” he added quickly, catching Chekov’s impatience. “Even though we only have 46 Prowler class ships…”

“I thought you said they only approved an initial build of 44,” said Captain Suparman Saldana Budi.  
“That plus the Hunter and the Prowler,” Dolphin rejoined. “We have 46. But that speed is a force multiplier. If the romulans come from two different directions, we can deal with one fleet, then pivot to another.”  
“With the weaponry you carry, you might was well be throwing rocks at them,” said Chekov.  
“Actually, that’s precisely what we’re going to do,” said Dolphin. “I asked Geoff Alstars to provide a new calculation for a Prowler class to enter recursive warp while dragging an asteroid weighing four kilotons. This will be tricky, as you will have to fly stick at warp speed to get close enough to drop the rock just as you come out of warp, passing within 500 meters.”

“You’re seriously going to throw rocks at them???” asked Captain Elaine Nichols.

“Rocks,” Dolphin confirmed. “At warp 13.75. E equals MC to the 13th power… We hit them hard. We hit them fast. We leave the Intrepid and Escort class ships to mop up the debris while the Prowler class ships regroup and hit the second wave.”  
“Okay you fearful little name dropper,” said Chekov with a wicked cat-caught-the-mouse grin, “Tell me how you are on first name basis with Sir Geoffrey Alstars.”  
Dolphin shrugged. “He works in my engine room…”

\- * -

A few hours later, Dolphin was in Red’s quarters.   
“Okay, flyboy, tell me why you got so weird in that meeting. Who were you trying to impress, Chekov or me?” Red was dressed provocatively - tight leathers and lace. “It’s a good thing I like you already.”  
“Chekov doesn’t bother me,” said Dolphin. “You, on the other hand… well… I was recently reminded that lingering stares are more creepy than romantic…”  
“You’ve been talking with Holly Nash,” said Red. She watched Dolphin’s face closely. Then: “And you screwed her!”   
“How many telepaths are there in Star Fleet? Are you part betazoid or something?” Dolphin asked.   
Captain Red laughed. “It doesn’t take a telepath to read that face. That and I was recently at Starbase 11. Holly’s an old friend. Now, the word that gets you out of trouble is ‘blue’. Make certain you don’t say it… You’re the only person who has ever taken a whip to my ass and I have been plotting delicious payback for some time…”

Dolphin rolled his eyes. “It was your shoulder… and it was only one pop…”

Red was straightening a length of silk rope. “The word is ‘blue’. See if you can avoid using it…”

22.11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Captain Elaine Nichols  
> Human Ethnicity: African American  
> Additional Species: Vulcan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Trantor, Cun Ling  
> Introduced: Episode 22.11  
> Age when introduced: 55  
> Role: Captain, U.S.S. Pierre
> 
> Character: Captain Suparman Saldana Budi  
> Human Ethnicity: Indonesian  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Jakarta, Indonesia  
> Introduced: Episode 22.11  
> Age when introduced: 61  
> Role: Captain, U.S.S. Milky Way


	46. Episode 22.12 - Sacrifice: Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The trial of Justice Minerva Irons on New Romulus on Vulcan begins. Justice Irons testimony is far more riveting than the romulans had anticipated...
> 
>  _Justice Irons was a good story teller and her audience was in rapt attention at this point. The three judges were just listening... “Alone, on a secret mission on the other side of the Romulan Star Empire, far from home, about to be boiled alive… We were about to join thousands of romulan and klingon crews missing in action in the Dead Zone…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> This is part one of a two-part trial that will dramatically change Justice Irons' fate and that of everyone around her.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene12: Justice

22.12  
Justice

Supreme Commander Sela attended the trial but did not play a formal role. Next to her on her right side was Senate Proconsul Vruncleel, who had negotiated the Gagarin Treaty with Justice Minerva Irons. To Sela's left, Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper was sitting. The courtroom was laid out like an amphitheater and was located on the top floor of the Imperial Romulan Administration Building on the edge of the Regar Sea on Vulcan. Unlike Federation courtrooms, in which the observers faced the judges, in a romulan court the observers were seated behind the three judges, seeing the accused from their perspective. A transparent wall behind the accused Justice Irons allowed a vast panoramic view of the Regar Sea, swiftly darkening following a dull sunset. Lines of small lights defined the shoreline.  
The three justices served different purposes. Only one was a professional judge - a vulcan named Soel who was part of a small vulcan population within the Romulan Star Empire. His job was to be the impartial judge and ensure the letter of the law was followed during the trial. Admiral Ekot was to serve as Justice Irons’ advocate - representative for the accused. The job of the prosecutor - representative for the romulan people - was assigned to Commander Hundeeth, who was, at the moment, asking the questions.

“Tell us, Justice Minerva Irons, how you came to invade the Romulan Star Empire and who ordered you to do it. Tell us how you came to destroy the planet Gamorlan, killing nearly ten thousand romulan citizens as well as destroying all life on the planet. How you came to damage the I.R.W. Fero, in an act of war against the empire. Tell us how, in a second incident of terrorism, you caused the borg to attack the I.R.W. Bestia, leading to the death of nearly a thousand more citizens of the Romulan Star Empire and how you then betrayed your own allies, leading to a death toll among them in the millions if not higher.”

“First of all, I want to thank you for that clear summation of events, Commander Hundeeth,” Irons replied. “And please forgive me for not standing. I am now 160 years old and this will be a somewhat long story. Recently, we have become aware of an illness that affects vulcans and is passed from one to another by mind-meld.”  
“I must ask the accused to keep her remarks germane to the crimes with which she is charged,” Hundeeth interrupted.  
“Oh, but the crimes with which I am charged are a small part of much larger crimes in which I am involved,” Irons responded. “I think this court may want to officially record crimes that the highest authorities within the Federation have concealed not only from their enemies and their allies, but even from their own people. But if the court prefers not to indulge in this larger context, I will restrict my remarks as instructed.”

There was enough of a silence that the sound of a few hundred romulans, vulcans and various vulcan/human hybrids drawing a sudden breath could be heard. Jennifer Hopper glanced at Sela and saw that her eyebrows were almost at her hairline and she was using all of her self-discipline to keep from smiling.

The three judges conferred quietly, then Admiral Ekot said, “This court will indulge the accused. You have raised our expectations, Justice Irons. We allow this indulgence in hopes you will meet those expectations.”  
“Thank you, Admiral,” Irons said. “Two attempted genocides within the Federation have been carefully concealed from the public. The first of these was against trill/human hybrids and was accomplished by a powerfully telepathic serial killer. When my crew attempted to capture her, she forced us to kill her. At first, I thought this was because she desperately wanted to be free from the compulsion to kill. Only recently I have become aware of the actual reason. She was half vulcan, half betazoid. It was her father, a powerful member of the Federation Tribunal who had laid that compulsion on her via repeated mind-melds. This is the illness I was referring to. Not only was she programmed by her father, she was specifically bred by him and genetically altered to become the perfect killer.”  
“But she was not his only victim. Some of you might have become aware that Fleet Admiral Scumuk died under suspicious circumstances. He actually died from the application of a drug that has terrible effects on vulcans and is usually fatal – quadropseudoprozadiazomine. This drug was designed specifically to counter the effects of repeated vulcan mind-melds and is only used on vulcans in case of emergencies. We used this drug on Fleet Admiral Scumuk in a desperate attempt to find a counter-agent to a virus he developed that threatened to exterminate the bolian people. In his death throes, Fleet Admiral Scumuk told me that I must go to the library.”

Irons paused to take a drink. “Of course Star Fleet kept these attempts at genocide, first against human/trill hybrids, then the bolian people a secret – what little they knew about it. At this point I should point out that my command is unique – my command is not under Star Fleet Operations, but under the Federation Tribunal. And it was one of the Chief Justices of the Tribunal who set these events in motion. And he was the one who arranged for our first incursion into romulan space.”  
“I do not know if our first passage through romulan space was noted, but we did not encounter any romulan vessels. Our telemetry from that invasion revealed a galaxy that has produced waves of gamma radiation that are currently sterilizing the Romulan Star Empire and will leave the empire entirely lifeless within 500 years.”

“Shut these proceedings down!” ordered one of Sela’s admirals.   
Justice Minerva Irons sat back in her chair and had another drink of water.  
Sela stood up, staring at the admiral who had given the order. Judge Soel was standing and staring at her as well. 

“Admiral Himela,” said Judge Soel, “this is my courtroom. You do not have authority to give such orders. Only I or the supreme commander have the authority to stop these proceedings. And I do not intend to stop these proceedings unless so ordered by the supreme commander. If you cannot control your emotions, I invite you to leave my courtroom.”  
Sela watched Admiral Himela until she sat down. Only then did the supreme commander resume her seat.   
“Justice Minerva Irons, I entreat you to be careful with the charges you level against the Romulan Star Empire,” Judge Soel continued.  
Irons took another drink, then said. “I have made no charges against the empire. The empire did not create this threat And while the gamma radiation will eventually sterilize the Klingon Empire, the Federation, the Cardassian Union and will, within 4,000 years leave the Alpha Quadrant entirely lifeless, there is nothing in the Babel Treaties, the Khitomer Accords or the Gagarin Treaty that requires the Romulan Star Empire to inform its neighbors of this impending doom that hangs over us all.”

Irons paused, watching her audience slowly digest this information. “It was this, my first incursion in to romulan space that led directly to the second incursion, during which some of the events narrated by Commander Hundeeth happened as he stated them. The remainder happened during our third incursion into romulan space.”

Commander Hundeeth interrupted. “So you are claiming that you invaded romulan space not once, but three times and evaded capture all three times?”

“I have submitted into evidence a few sections of telemetry that is date/time encoded,” said Irons. “I have arranged for this telemetry to be broadcast at this time. The viewer behind me is programmed to receive this broadcast. I am aware this trial is being broadcast. Everyone who receives the broadcast of this trial will also receive the telemetry to which I refer, so I recommend this telemetry be added to the official record at this time.”

“The accused will not take control of my courtroom,” said Judge Soel.  
The three judges conferred quietly for a few moments. Then Admiral Ekot spoke. “In the interest of learning more about the methods and technologies employed against the Empire and to further the jurisprudence of this case, we have decided to allow the telemetry for now.”  
Justice Minerva Irons stood up. “Judge Soel, please accept my apologies for what may appear to be an attempt to take over your courtroom. I can only offer you the consolation that all of my plans have been similarly overridden.” She walked carefully to a very large viewer behind her. The viewer displayed a spiral galaxy.  
“On our first incursion into romulan space, just over one Federation Standard Year ago, we were searching for a natural phenomenon that could explain the sterilized expanse known as the Dead Zone on the other side of the Romulan Star Empire from here. And we found it – one of my navigators dubbed it the ‘Gamma Gun Galaxy’ – a small spiral galaxy with a black hole at its core that went into a gamma emission stage about 2.5 billion years ago.”

The image on the viewscreen shifted to an image of the vast debris field the U.S.S. Hunter had traveled through. “Before we reached the Dead Zone, about 800 Federation Standard Light Years below the galactic plane, we encountered a great machine that Fleet Admiral Scumuk referred to as ‘the Hulk’. We had no idea what it was or how it got there, at first. Then we detected a massive gamma burst less than 40 minutes away from us, moving at the speed of light. We knew the intensity of the burst was more than 400 times what our shields could protect us from. We were going to get cooked. Even our circuitry could not have handled that intensity of radiation. The three artificial lifeforms aboard would not have survived either…”

Justice Irons was a good story teller and her audience was in rapt attention at this point. The three judges were just listening. Sela was relaxed back in her seat high above in the audience. Jennifer Hopper was on the edge of her seat, no longer casting side-long glances at the supreme commander.

“Alone, on a secret mission on the other side of the Romulan Star Empire, far from home, about to be boiled alive… We were about to join thousands of romulan and klingon crews missing in action in the Dead Zone…”

22.12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Judge Soel  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Vulcan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Tith Vally, Romulus  
> Introduced: Episode 22.12  
> Age when introduced: 169  
> Role: Primary Judge, Romulan Star Navy


	47. Episode 22.13 - Sacrifice: Keep Your Friends Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov boards the U.S.S. Hunter for an inspection and to meet the odd crew - and they are definitely odd...
> 
>  _“Understood, Commander,” Hunter replied evenly. “Should we refer to this as operation bondage restriction?”_  
>  _“Um….,” said Dolphin, “….No...”_  
>  _“Very well, Commander," said the avatar. "Rear Admiral Chekov, welcome to me.” The elderly looking, pudgy avatar vanished._  
>  _“I had forgotten this ship is artificially intelligent,” said Chekov. “That hologram is designed after Professor Jose Crumar?”_  
>  _“With all of his knowledge and scientific acumen as well as, apparently, his sense of humor,” said Dolphin as he ushered the admiral out of the transporter room to the lifts at the rear of deck 7. “Main Engineering,” Dolphin said as the lift doors closed..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I twist myself into pretzels to avoid using pronouns when dealing gender indeterminate characters...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 13: Keep Your Friends Close

22.13  
Keep Your Friends Close

Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov beamed over to the U.S.S. Hunter along with the ship’s acting commanding officer, Commander Kenneth Dolphin. The two men barely stepped off the transporter pad when Transporter Engineer Dragomut began moaning loudly and leaned over the transporter control panel. The shell like skin on the imoginette engineer’s long forehead was pulsing with a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors – most of them pastel. Dragomut slumped over the control panel, smashing helplessly. Dolphin started to move forward to help, but Chekov grabbed his arm.

“Stand back, Commander,” Chekov ordered. “Get help – this crewmember needs to go to Medical.”  
“Midshipman Datsun,” said Dolphin, “Please report to Transporter Room One immediately and help Dragomut to Medical. Napoleon, where are you?”  
“Aye Sir,” Datsun replied. The transporter chief walked in seconds later. “Dragomut, can you stand?”  
“I am on the bridge,” came Lt. Cmdr. Napoleon Boles’ voice.  
“Report to Medical to assist Transporter Specialist Dragomut,” Dolphin said as Dragomut, still spasming and colors still swirling across the imoginette’s long forehead, hobbled out of the transporter room, leaning heavily on Carlos Datsun’s shoulder. “Notify me whom you leave in command. Dolphin out.”  
“Aye sir,” came the response from Boles over the comm system. “I am leaving 2nd Lieutenant Tolon in command.”

“So I take it you had a really wild time with Captain Red,” said Chekov with a bit of a wicked smile. “That’s why you were so weird in that meeting…”  
Dolphin blushed violently. “How did you know?”  
Chekov made an amused noise. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I was sitting between the two of you and if I hadn’t been, we would probably have had to pry you off of each other before the meeting was over. But the confirmation was just now – the reaction of your imoginette crew member.”  
“You know what that was all about?” Dolphin asked.  
“A delegation of them attended a diplomatic conference my wife and I were at a few years back," Chekov responded. "They’re empaths, but what they really key in on is sex. We had to call in security to keep the reception from turning into an orgy and several of the security officers got caught up in it. We were just really fortunate to have a large number of vulcans working security that night. Of course the imoginettes had no idea about the attitudes of other species toward open sexual expression. To them, a formal soiree hasn’t really begun until everyone has their clothes off…”  
Dolphin’s eyes widened. “So all that moaning and spasming just now… Dragomut was…”

“Orgasming. Hard,” Chekov responded. “She must have picked up on your experience with Captain Red. Or he? I’m never sure what pronoun to use with these people… it?”

“Don’t use ‘it’,” Dolphin replied. “They see that pronoun as denuding them of sexuality entirely. It’s a terrible insult. I have recommended my crew simply avoid using pronouns altogether.”  
“That sounds exhausting,” Chekov observed. “In any case, you should keep as much distance between yourself and your imoginette transporter engineer as possible. At least for the next 48 hours. And be prepared for some aberrant behavior from your crew. What… Dragomut is the name?”  
Dolphin nodded.  
“What Dragomut just took in from you,” continued Chekov, “will get projected back through other crew members.” The admiral took a deep breath, then looked up again. “Well, let’s go down to Engineering and meet your team.”

“One moment please, Admiral,” said Dolphin. “Hunter?”  
The elderly looking ship’s avatar appeared in the transporter room. “How can I help you, Commander?”  
“For the next 48 hours I want you to restrict crew member access to rope, handcuffs, whips and any other items generally associated with, um… sexual bondage and related sexual games. Don’t allow the crew to replicate them. Don’t let them obtain holographic versions and if there are any of those things actually laying around, secure them for the next 48 hours.”  
“Understood, Commander,” Hunter replied evenly. “Should we refer to this as operation bondage restriction?”  
“Um….,” said Dolphin, “….No...”  
“Very well, Commander," said the avatar. "Rear Admiral Chekov, welcome to me.” The elderly looking, pudgy avatar vanished.  
“I had forgotten this ship is artificially intelligent,” said Chekov. “That hologram is designed after Professor Jose Crumar?”  
“With all of his knowledge and scientific acumen as well as, apparently, his sense of humor,” said Dolphin as he ushered the admiral out of the transporter room to the lifts at the rear of deck 7. “Main Engineering,” Dolphin said as the lift doors closed.

“So are we going to be able to literally throw rocks at those giant romulan ships?” Rear Admiral Chekov asked.  
“Um….,” said Dolphin, “….No...”  
“I thought it sounded rather far-fetched.” said Chekov.  
“Well, the physics and the math work out, but the ability of pilots to deliver the fine control needed to avoid disastrous consequences – well… My people tell me it would be irresponsible to pursue this method further. But it seems they have another idea."  
"Anything that will make these little ships effective against a romulan warbird. So what is it?" Chekov asked as they stepped off the lift onto the main engineering deck.  
"Not a clue," Dolphin replied.

Dr. Moon stepped up. "Welcome, Rear Admiral," she said and waved toward the engineering conference room. Chekov paused for a moment – in an open space between the warp core and the port wall were a number of clearboards covered with arcane equations written using a black marker. In the midst of these, a tall, elderly ensign stomped back and forth. There was only enough room for him to take one or two short steps, then turn around. He grumbled under his breath the entire time.  
Dr. Moon turned at the entrance to the conference room and said, "Come on Geoff, Hui. Yolanda, why don't you join us as well?"  
Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas was a short, full figured African American woman with evidence of vulcan ancestry and a strong Oklahoma drawl. "I got the idea from reading the logs of Jonathan Archer," she said. "In their initial configuration, the original NX series Enterprise's phaser cannon were too weak to be of any use. They almost accidentally discovered that running them through the main EPS system and accessing power from the warp core made the phasers ten times stronger and phaser cannon have been configured that way ever since."  
"Now the Hunter's recursive warp engine isn't more powerful than any other Star Fleet power plant. But it is by far the most efficient," Thomas continued. "So I wondered if we could borrow the recursive power generation and run that in passive mode through the phaser cannon."  
"Our initial modeling showed us that this would only serve to cut our phaser power in half," said 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui as Ensign Alstars finally ambled into the conference room and closed the door. “But Geoff spotted something in the equations and ran a model test of the configuration against a standard shield configuration..."  
"Like the shields just aren't even there," said Alstars "but at that point we're essentially trying to cut through their hull with a laser pointer. Even at full power, our phasers would take several minutes of sustained cutting to get through one of those romulan hulls. The romulans aren't kidding around with those things. The hull is made from layers of aluminum and plastic well over nine meters thick. These phasers were designed for popping open pirate schooners, not for cutting through a major war ship."  
"So what good is all this?" Chekov asked.  
2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui rapped the table twice with his knuckle and said, "Hunter, display Thomas/Alstars solution model 47."  
A highly detailed holographic model of a romulan warbird suddenly appeared hovering about three feet above the conference table – the model was about the size of the table. A scale model of the U.S.S. Hunter, just above the table top, underneath the warbird had to be highlighted to draw attention to it – it was about the size of a large bumblebee by comparison.  
"Geoff and Yolanda were about to give up on this idea," said Lt. Sun. "But I wanted to know what would happen if we were to target the shield emitter. As you know, romulan warbirds use two separate networks of shield emitters. It turns out that each network has a separate primary emitter on the underside of the warbird. Hunter, run simulation."  
The tiny phaser beams from the simulation of the Hunter were fine as spider silk. They sparked harmlessly along the hull of the warbird until they intersected with one of the shield emitters. With an instant flash, the warbird's primary shield network went down. When the simulated Hunter's modified phaser hit the secondary shield emitter, that shield array went down in an instant as well. It took Chekov a moment to realize that the simulated Hunter was operating in divided configuration – with the platform targeting one deflector network and the tactical unit targeting the secondary network. When both were hit at the same time with the deflectors already down, a series of secondary explosions caused damage to the hull around the deflector emitter arrays.   
The tiny parts of the Hunter then targeted these emitters with photon torpedoes, which buried themselves deep into the broken emitter arrays, causing a cascade of secondary explosions, severely damaging the underside of the warbird and potentially crippling it.

Both Commander Dolphin and Rear Admiral Chekov were evidently impressed. "Goliath, meet David," said Dolphin. "David, Goliath."

"Of course, there's an obvious problem with this simulation," said Dr. Alstars, in his bristly, precise Oxford accent. "The romulans will be shooting back. Which will make targeting those emitter arrays far more problematic."

"How long until you have a working solution?" asked Chekov.  
"I have most of the math worked out," Alstars replied. "Actual tests with modifications to the phaser array - probably tomorrow or the next day. But Commander Dolphin will need to develop the flight doctrine and pilot training program. Making this happen will be one-tenth science and engineering and 99% manual flight doctrine and training."  
Chekov turned toward Dolphin. "What do you think, Kenny? You're supposed to be the hot dog pilot in the fleet."  
Dolphin smiled, then said, "I would like to work with Captain Sagittarius Hunter and his Flight Operations Department on this. After my group, they have the most experience flying this class of ship and the U.S.S. Prowler is really more representative of the class than the Hunter is."  
Chekov nodded sagely. "Sage is a really grounded fellow. I think you'll like him – if you can get past that city-boy – country-boy thing. Sage says he's from Harper's Ferry, but he actually grew up on a farm, along with his half-dozen zodiac-monikered siblings."

22.13


	48. Episode 22.14 - Sacrifice: One Single Vote

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The resolution to give the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems to the Romulan Star Empire passes the Federation Council - by one single vote - that of Ushi Irons. The council is deeply divided and the stage is set for Emory Ivonovic to follow his greatest ambition...  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> From the moment I introduced Ivonovic in Episode 2, I had every intention that he would eventually become the President of the Federation...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunting**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 14: One Single Vote

22.14  
One Single Vote

Ushi Irons had called in every favor, leveraged every secret, twisted every arm... Not in person as he had spent a day on Cun Ling, then another day in transit back to Earth. But he had many, many children who had long done his vote wrangling for him. With 31 children, all devoted to politics, Ushi had long ago divided the task of vote wrangling among his children and a few of his older grandchildren. Each had between ten and fifteen of the 360 Federation Council members and knew everything about them, how to convince them to vote in their own self-interest and at this moment, the moment of greatest need, the dirty personal secrets that would compel them to vote against everything they believed in.  
The resolution to cede the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems to the Romulan Star Empire and to assist in transplanting Saketh from deep inside the empire into those star systems, using Star Fleet's most advanced ship, passed by a single vote. When deeply unpopular resolutions were passed this way, it was almost inevitable that the councilmember casting the deciding vote would be replaced. Ushi Irons cast the deciding vote.

\- * -

"They have done it again. And I tried, I fought hard to stop it. But I could not prevent it. As a Federation Councilmember, I have only one vote in 360. And by a single vote – one single vote – Federation space has been handed over to the romulans... again. The Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems, located on the Federation side of the Neutral Zone, are to be ceded to the Romulan Star Empire. You must be asking yourselves why.   
"If you have not yet learned of it, you will soon learn of something called the Dead Zone on the far side of the Romulan Star Empire from here. The information I am about to impart to you has only just been declassified by the Federation Council Security Committee and Federation President Maria Rodriguez. This is very complicated, so I must ask you to listen closely and return to this segment of this program and listen to it again.  
"The Dead Zone is an area in the Beta Quadrant that has been sterilized by massive bursts of gamma radiation. This deadly gamma radiation comes from a black hole in the heart of another galaxy. These bursts of radiation have been traveling toward the Milky Way for nearly two billion years.  
"We have recently learned that the Dead Zone is moving and over the next 300 years will engulf much of the Romulan Star Empire, exterminating all life in its path. In the face of this disaster, the Federation Council has offered the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems as a refuge for the Romulan Star Empire. Following the destruction of Romulus, the most productive planet in the Romulan Star Empire is a planet called Saketh. In less than 300 years, this world will be completely sterilized.”

"While the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems have no habitable worlds, Al D 3, Al D 4 and Al J 4 are all good candidates for transplantation of the Saketh biosphere. Star Fleet has designed and built a ship, the U.S.S. Ark, for this specific purpose.”

"I will admit, there is a certain amount of nobility to this effort, to save an enemy from a natural disaster that is beyond their ability to adapt to. But this noble act puts the Federation at extreme strategic risk – dare I say existential risk. Until this risk is adequately managed, the Federation must protect itself not only from the threat of open romulan aggression, but more dangerously, from covert attempts by the romulans to divide the Federation, removing one homeworld from our coalition after another – first to seek independence. But more critically to invite romulan operatives in to ‘restore order’.  
"With the offer now in place and on its way to the Supreme Commander of the Romulan Star Empire, we must harden our internal procedures to make our worlds safe from this kind of encroachment. We must protect Federation homeworlds – Federation soil.”

"With that in mind, I have laid out a series of reforms, based on the Federation Charter. And to ensure that these reforms are correctly administered and that they are only temporary, I am announcing my candidacy for President of the Federation Council at the end of President Maria Rodriguez's term.  
"As you well know, the Federation President is elected by your representatives on the Federation Council. But you can have a tremendous impact on their vote. I am asking you to contact your representative on the council and advocate for the reforms that I propose and, if you feel that I am the man to see these reforms through, to advocate for me in my bid to succeed President Rodriguez.   
"I am Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic from the Colony of New Hope and I want to bring a new hope to the Federation. Our future is threatened by events that seem outside our control. But we are stronger that we realize. As desperate as this challenge is, we have the ability to rise to meet it. And in rising to meet this challenge, we will not only give ourselves hope for a future, but for a better future. In rising to meet this new challenge, we will build a better world. Better worlds. For all our peoples.  
"This is Subspace Radio Ivonovic, your voice, the voice of the naturalborn and the new hope for all patriotic citizens of the Federation and for our honorable allies. You will see my face again. You will hear my voice again. In these troubled times I will not leave you.”

22.14


	49. Episode 22.15 - Sacrifice: The Destroyer of Worlds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Justice Minerva Irons continues her dramatic testimony... And only she know just how dramatic this trial is about to become...
> 
>  _"I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Monster of Saketh, the Terror of the Romulan People, the Scourge of the Innocent. If you must address me by name, you may address me as Shiva. Life cannot thrive without death. I have always striven to be a life force. But now…” Irons’ voice trailed off… “I am so old, I am so tired…” her voice was just a whisper now… She raised her eyes sorrowfully toward the ceiling. “I am become Death…"_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> It's all smoke and mirrors. I will reveal the man behind the curtain in the next episode...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 22: Sacrifice  
Scene 15: The Destroyer of Worlds

22.15  
The Destroyer of Worlds

"But what we did not know was that the wreck we were in was, in fact, a great machine, designed, manufactured and until about a half million years ago, maintained to preserve life in our galaxy..." Behind Justice Minerva Irons, the enormous viewer displayed the vast debris field suddenly turning a brilliant green in some sections, while much larger sections remained unprotected.  
"Deus ex Machina," intoned Irons. She stepped away from the viewer and returned to her seat. The viewer could be plainly seen behind her. "We were saved by the great machine. Only a few parts of this machine still work. We were fortunate enough to be in one of those still functional parts.” 

Behind Justice Irons, the viewer shifted to a display of the great ring structure around a star. "And so we came to the cradle of the builders of this machine. The place built by the progenitors in which they transformed their own people by the billions to give them the abilities needed to construct the great machine. This was the cradle of that race – a race we have come to fear and whom we have named 'the Borg’."

"On our return to Federation space, I was informed by one of our spies within the Romulan Star Empire about the thirty-years’ war the Romulan Star Empire fought with a coalition called 'the Tell.' And I was told of a dying planet named Gamorlan, on which, I was led to believe, the empire was attempting to re-create a terrible biological weapon that had wiped out the native, pre-warp species. I was also made aware of the planet Saketh and its impending doom from gamma radiation.”  
"My orders to stop the romulan weapons research on Gamorlan came from the Federation Tribunal, specifically Chief Justice Scrivax. As you may or may not know, the Federation Tribunal does not have authority to conduct operations outside of the Federation. Such missions can only be authorized with the support of one of the founding governments. Our support came from the Vulcan High Command in Exile in the person of Saoron, the Vulcan Premiere in Exile.”

"Your honors, I want to thank you for your indulgence in allowing me to tell the story of all three of my incursions into romulan space. I will now speak directly to the crimes with which I am charged." 

Irons paused to take a drink of water. The room remained dead silent – the hundreds of observers barely willing to breathe.  
Behind the elderly accused woman, the large viewscreen now displayed the actively volcanic planet of Gamorlan. 

"We managed to hide our ship on the surface of Gamorlan – a dying world under the sentence of sterilization – within 31 years this planet will be sterilized by gamma radiation. But there was still some life on this world when we arrived. I sent an expedition, led by my first and second officers, to determine whether there was any truth to the allegation that the empire was trying to recreate the biological weapon that the Gamorlan people had used to exterminate their own race.”  
"I was informed by my officers that this was confirmed. I learned later that this confirmation consisted of one of my telepathic crew members reading the mind of a klingon operative – whose mission was similar to ours – who had, in turn, tortured a confession from a romulan researcher.”   
"Based on this scant confirmation, I ordered the destruction of Gamorlan. As we were escaping the ruin of Gamorlan, the I.R.W. Fero came out of warp into orbit and was caught up in the ruin of the planet. The Fero managed to escape the Gamorlan gravity well, unlike a romulan freighter that was in orbit. The freighter was lost with all hands. All romulan researchers on the planet were killed. And a large number of romulans aboard the Fero were killed when a volcanic mass, ejected from the dying planet, smashed into the ship.”

Behind Justice Irons, the viewer displayed dramatic telemetry of an exploding planet, an enormous freighter being caught in the spray of volcanic mass and the narrow escape of the Fero - only to be hit by an enormous chunk of volcanic mass ejected from the planet.

"My first and second officers were lost in that action. We searched for several days, but, short on supplies and in danger of being discovered, we finally retreated to Federation space. Our third incursion was approved by Star Fleet's Executive Director of Operations, Fleet Admiral Miriam Stewart, and was the last order she gave before being dishonorably discharged for her complicity in the Fall of Vulcan.”

Behind Irons, the viewer displayed the interior of the Bestia as the Hunter was captured and engulfed in the Bestia's largest hangar bay.

"We were found, taken prisoner, and treated very well by Supreme Commander Sela. We were placed in an environment within which we could have found peace. I could have found peace. To be honest, I did not want to leave that prison. To spend the remainder of my days farming, tending to life instead of destroying it…"  
There was a powerful wistfulness in Irons' voice.   
"But I could not allow the security of the U.S.S. Hunter to be breached. Nor would I allow my crew to remain enslaved - even if it would have been soft slavery. By means that I am not at liberty to discuss, I was able to summon the borg. And I used them mercilessly to create a distraction so that my people could escape.”

The viewer behind Irons displayed the ship's telemetry as it exited the I.R.W. Bestia, then details of the space battle between the enormous romulan battlegod and two borg cubes. 

"Again, using tactics I am not at liberty to discuss, we destroyed the second borg vessel. Our estimates of borg casualties agree with the estimate given by Commander Hundeeth – probably as many as a million on the second cube alone, not to mention the greater number on the first cube which was eventually destroyed by the I.R.W. Bestia."  
The viewer was displaying the explosion of the second cube, then the screen went dark and was retracted back below the table. At the same time as the viewscreen was going down behind her, Justice Minerva Irons stood up, slowly, painfully.

"Your honors, Supreme Commander Sela, I am guilty of the crimes against the Romulan Star Empire and the romulan people with which I have been accused. And the Federation played a role in these crimes by authorizing my incursions into romulan space.”  
“As payment for its corporate culpability and surety of continued peace between our people, the Federation will offer the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems to be incorporated into the Romulan Star Empire and further, will assist the empire in transplanting the biosphere of doomed Saketh into those star systems.”  
“Regarding the crimes with which I am accused, I take full responsibility. I gave the order to destroy Gamorlan. I gave the order to summon the borg. I gave the order to escape from the I.R.W. Bestia. And I gave the order to destroy the second borg cube. These crimes are my responsibility.”

The silence in the room took on a different feel. Instead of forgetting to breathe, the hundreds of romulans, vulcans and humans felt as though they could not breathe. Something of the light had gone out in Justice Irons’ eyes. It felt as if all the joy of life that had ever existed had been snuffed out and all that was left was howling emptiness. Irons’ voice had become hollow and gravelly, exhausted. She was no longer making an effort to conceal how difficult it had become for her to speak – it sounded as though gravel was flying about in her throat.

"I do not ask your forgiveness. I am not throwing myself on your mercy. My work is not yet done. The biosphere of Saketh must be transplanted from its doomed location before that planet is sterilized by a massive gamma burst. And another populated planet with a pre-warp civilization, as yet undiscovered by the empire, exists within the Romulan Star Empire. These innocents must be saved. And to save those people, I must make it impossible for them to remain.”  
Irons took a deep breath, spoke more clearly, more loudly. "To all who can hear my voice, I am Justice Minerva Irons no longer. I forsake the title Justice. Given the crimes I have committed and the crimes I will yet commit, I can no longer pretend to that title.” Irons’ voice seemed to grow – becoming enormous and hollow… “And I forsake the name Irons. I no longer represent the moral code of that great family and can never again advise my kindred as their matriarch.”   
Irons’ gravelly voice had grown even louder – at once filling the courtroom and evoking a howling void within her listeners… “I forsake the name Minerva – I was named after the goddess of wisdom, the protector of life. My role has changed. I am no longer the protector of life.”  
Irons’ voice had become overwhelming, an ocean of sound… A sound as dead as the Regar Sea… Seeming to shake the foundation of the Imperial Administration Building… A rising wave of nausea and terror pouring into the ears, hearts and minds of her listeners…  
" _ **I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds, the Monster of Saketh, the Terror of the Romulan People, the Scourge of the Innocent. If you must address me by name, you may address me as Shiva.**_ Life cannot thrive without death. I have always striven to be a life force. But now…” Irons’ voice trailed off… “I am so old, I am so tired…” her voice was just a whisper now… She raised her eyes sorrowfully toward the ceiling. “I am become Death…"

Sela stood up suddenly, an instinct. Then everyone else heard it, felt it, saw it, a swirl of lights, a familiar whining sound…

"NO!!! IT IS NOT POSSIBLE!!! THIS IS A SHIELDED FACILITY!!” Sela shrieked, only to have her voice drowned in the ensuing chaos as a transporter beam removed the accused from her courtroom…

22 – Sacrifice


	50. Episode 23.1 - JAG Wars: The Prodigal Sum Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Shiva (formerly known as Justice Minerva Irons) has a brief moment to relax with her granddaughter, grandson-in-law and with the romulan spy, Pivin the Betrayer before returning to romulan space - this time to become the Monster of Saketh...
> 
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Just as I had always planned for Ivonovic to become the President of the Federation, I had also planned Minerva Irons' transformation from Apellate Justice At Large to full time agent for Section 31.  
> .

Star Trek Hunter  
Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 1: The Prodigal Sum Returns

23.1  
The Prodigal Sum Returns

“I nearly threw up. I don’t know what you were doing to make people in that courtroom nauseous, but it was almost more than I could handle.” The ancient former appellate justice found her way to a plush chair in the forward lounge of the R.R.C. Prodigal Sum and sank tiredly into it. An elderly romulan woman brought her a cup with heavy red steam cascading over the side.  
“Hot bolian flat-salt baker’s water. Not exactly a delight for any non-bolian palate, but it should make your stomach feel better.”  
“Bless you, Pivin…” The ancient Chinese woman took a sip, shuddered.  
“Do not sip it. Drink it. All of it,” said Pivin. “The ingredient that tastes bad is the part that’s good for your stomach.”

Only two meters away, the flight cabin was open to the forward lounge. A short but enormously obese, bearded bajoran got up from the pilot’s seat and stretched. “We are now leaving Vulcan space and entering the Neutral Zone,” said Pomm Irons. “I have to say I am really impressed with the upgrade to our cloaking system. These last few weeks I’ve been able to spot cloaked warbirds, passed within meters of them and they never had a clue I was there. We were parked almost exactly on top of that navel administration building – right inside their shields and they didn’t have a clue.”  
“Which explains how we were able to beam you out,” continued a cardassian woman, still seated at the tactical station in the flight cabin. “The romulans knew there was no way to beam you out of a shielded facility. What they didn’t know what that Pivin had reprogrammed the facility’s defense mechanism to extend its shield parimeter around our yacht. We were just beaming you from one area to another within a shielded facility,” Oarama Irons concluded.  
“What about the nausea? And all those changes with my voice? And the building shaking?”  
“More smoke and mirrors,” said Pomm, taking a lounge chair and pouring himself a brown, grainy-looking drink. “The sound effects were simple – hooking your internal communicator into the room’s sound system. I added some suggestive white noise at a very low level – subliminal. As for the nausea, you were lucky to be at the lowest level of the room. Most of the audience was a least a meter above you, so they aspirated a lot more of the hallucinogen than you did. And then there was the coup-de-grace… I extended a static warp shell around the building and phased it in and out – which will definitely mess with your gimbals – imagine subspace inside your molecules changing shape... I kept cranking the phase shift variance until it started to shake the building’s foundation. They’re going to need some repair work…”

Pivin the Betrayer brought the ancient another glass, this time filled with a sparkling fluid with a bit of a light green color to it. “Have some springwine, Minerva. It should wash away the foul taste from the baker’s water without upsetting your stomach.”  
“It’s Shiva now, Pivin. I am leaving my old life behind and beginning a new one.”  
Oarama Irons looked over her shoulder at her grandmother. “You were serious about all that ‘Terror of the Innocents’ stuff?”  
“Yes. And please get my new titles right, in case you are called upon to assist in spreading my, um… …propaganda.” Shiva looked carefully at Pivin. “Your hands…”

Pivin sat on the arm of the plush chair Shiva was relaxed into. She spread her fingers – her hands side-by-side. They did not match at all. The fingers of her left hand were short, strong, hardened with work and wrinkled with age. Her right hand looked as though it belonged on a much younger woman. The fingers were long and shapely, sensitive. Her right hand was significantly longer and not quite as wide or thick as her left. It was also darker in color - less green and more tan than the rest of her skin.  
“It is a transplant,” Pivin said. “My donor was a vulcan, which shows just how compatible vulcans and romulans are. Interestingly, my donor was a master of the lyrette, which is primarily played with the right hand. And now I have that ability. I am not the master that she was, but I am learning more each day. I feel I owe her that much.”  
“None of which tells me why you have a vulcan’s right hand,” Shiva rejoined.  
“I was posing as an IIC agent,” Pivin replied. “Not too great a challenge considering that I used to be one for nearly 50 years. Imperial Intelligence Control manages agent access to their computer system by embedding a key into the wrist of each agent’s dominant hand. I arranged to have my arm amputated when they were getting close to finding me. If they had found me before I removed the implant they would have released the poison in the implant. I uploaded as much information as I could to Pomm while my doctor was watching a readout that showed how close their tracking system was to finding me. When it hit a pre-determined value – about five seconds – he amputated. Fortunately, he had access to the organ donation network and was able to provide me a replacement.”  
“And your donor?” asked Shiva.  
“Suicide. Her husband was among the Star Fleet officers who died with Vice Admiral Senvol protecting Starbase 18,” said Pivin. “There were a lot of suicides immediately following the Fall of Vulcan. Almost all of them vulcans – very few humans and no hybrids.”

“We are now station keeping at the provided coordinates,” said Oarama.  
“Please allow me to be your grandmother for one more moment. Pomm, Oarama, Pivin, I have one more assignment that I want you to do for me…” Shiva got unsteadily to her feet. She embraced Pivin first, then Pomm, then, finally her mostly cardassian granddaughter.   
“What do you want us to do?” asked Pomm.  
"Retire," Shiva said without missing a beat. “Fade into the woodwork. Give the family a large number of children and let Pivin be a grandmother to them.” She held up her hand as it appeared Pomm was about to speak. “Ah! Listen to me, Pomm. The Irons family needs your genetics. The stuff that makes you the brilliant, devious little operative you have reliably been these past 15 years. And in the very unlikely case that I manage to return I would very much like to see Pivin again, alive and with at least three of her original limbs.”

Shiva stepped away from her three companions and looked up. “I am ready. Energize.”

Oarama made a disappointed noise as a transporter beam removed Shiva from the Prodigal Sum.   
Pomm wrapped a heavy arm around his wife’s shoulders. “She never was one for long good-byes.”  
“Tell that to Sela,” Pivin observed, earning a dry chuckle from her two companions.

23.1


	51. Episode 23 - JAG Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Introduction to Episode 23 - JAG Wars.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Introduction

Episode 23 – JAG Wars

_“The founders of Star Fleet and the United Federation of Planets dreamed of a post scarcity, multi-species culture that would be at once universal and egalitarian. The reality was that such a culture would have to be realized by animals relying heavily on the most advanced technology they could muster. And each of the worlds that participated had only recently emerged from their own petty squabbles and fears over globalization of their own cultures. Many of them were still embroiled in those battles when they took on the much larger challenge of creating from a dozen separate species, a single culture based on moral principles that had not yet gained global acceptance within any of their worlds.  
_ _“Despite these best intentions, armed rebellion against the Federation and its most iconic institution, Star Fleet, was inevitable. Even though Star Fleet was always an arm of the United Earth Governments and not of the Federation Council itself, Earth’s fleet, by far the most powerful of the various homeworld fleets composing the Federation, has come to be universally perceived as the enforcer of a Federation that was always intended to be a strictly voluntary association. Unique among Earth military structures, Star Fleet does not have a military police force. As that function became increasingly necessary, it was inevitably assigned to the Office of Judge Advocate General as the only native law enforcement arm within Star Fleet.  
_ _“Eventually, in a desperate attempt to prevent Star Fleet from becoming a police force in and of itself, an increasing number of law enforcement functions, such as suppression of piracy, have been assigned to JAG. As a result, JAG has been assigned resources – at first only two Escort class ships. But the Prowler class was developed exclusively for JAG functions. In response to internal needs, this class of small, fast and versatile ships is now poised to swell into a dedicated, potent military and general police force. Just what the founders of Star Fleet never wanted.”  
_

 _At Large Appellate Justice Minerva Irons -_ _The Evolution of a Police function within Star Fleet and the Development of the Prowler Class Starship for Law Enforcement; Star Fleet Internal Informational Memorandum #56910.2, Vol. 28, Item 42_ _._

Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter)

Captain Kenneth Dolphin  
Chief Executive Officer – Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles  
Chief Operations Officer - Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor

Medical Director – Lt. Jazz Sam Sinder  
Asst. Medical Director – 2nd Lt. Gabriella Griff  
Ensign Sif  
Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Kunto Wekesa (nickname Kit)  
Forensic Specialist – Midshipman Raaven  
Emergency Medical Hologram - Dr. Raj  
Tactical Medical Hologram - Dr. Kim  
.  
Director of Flight Operations – (Vacant)  
Asst. Flight Dir. - 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks  
Navigator Johanna Imex  
Navigator Auqa’rh’lth   
Ensign Chelna Zusa  
Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate)  
Flight Specialist Dih Terri  
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar  
Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper  
.  
Director of Ground Operations - Lt. T’Lon  
Asst. Ground Ops Dir. - 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves  
Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace  
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina)  
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki  
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi  
Ensign Eykirros Jones (nickname is Ike Jones)  
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo  
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment)  
.  
Director of Engineering - Lt. Moon Sun Salek  
Asst. Engineering Dir. - 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui  
Midshipman Carlos Datsun  
Transporter Engineer Dragomut  
Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars  
Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas  
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs  
Flight Engineer Tomos  
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon


	52. Episode 23.2 - JAG Wars: The Prowler Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> In spite of Rear Admiral Chekov's objections, Kenny Dolphin is promoted to Captain...
> 
> _“Don’t get me wrong, Captain Dolphin,” Chekov said. “I just worry that you have been promoted too quickly. You have only been in Star Fleet four years – only two other officers ever made captain in such a short period of time. Now I know you had a long talk with Urban. Tell me why he put you in charge of this action...”_
> 
>  _Dolphin made an amused noise, smiled... “The problem is that most of the captains and first officers in these Prowler class ships are primarily lawyers and judges. Sage and I are really the only two who have combat experience, and mine is much more extensive. Nothing like yours, but the last fight most of Admiral Yasutake’s commanding officers have seen was in a courtroom. That’s true for Rear Admiral Eaves as well.”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Kenny Dolphin has made some very powerful friends along the way - Federation Council Leader Ushi Irons, President-Elect Emory Ivonovic - which in turn helps his Star Fleet career...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 2: The Prowler Class

23.2  
The Prowler Class

“Well, this really wasn’t my idea and I fought a little against it,” whispered Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov to Commander Kenneth Dolphin. “Admiral Yasutake is caught up in the middle of a shit storm at H.Q. following your captain’s trial. A lot of people are howling for your head. But it appears you have some very powerful allies. Okay – it’s time. Put on your game face.”

Chekov, Dolphin and Captain Sagittarius Hunter were standing in the front row of the assembly area in Yuri Gagarin Memorial Park, in the center of the U.S.S. Milky Way. The Milky Way’s new captain, Suparman Saldana Budi, a small, intensely handsome man with dark skin and a strong Indonesian accent, was addressing a large segment of the crew as well as several crew members from the large number of other ships that were gathered in this area.

“…full status reports due to me at 1400 hours. Now, Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov…” Captain Budi was standing on the platform under the statue of Yuri Gagarin. He stepped to the back of the platform as Admiral Chekov climbed up the three steps onto the platform.   
Chekov looked out over the officers gathered in the park. It was easy to identify the Star Fleet Space Command from JAG officers. JAG crews wore uniforms of unrelieved black with the Star Fleet color code only expressed on the thin piping around the collar and the cuffs of their black shirts. Their communicator pins were finished in black instead of silver. Dolphin wasn’t wearing a communicator at all.  
“Well most of you have fought under my command recently," said Rear Admiral Chekov. "I will be blunt so you can get back to your crews and prepare. We’re about to do it again. Only this time there will be no tricks. Just a display of raw force. We will be backing up the Andorian Imperial Guard and the Vulcan High Command in Exile at Weythan. You will be arranged in two functional groups. If you are wearing a black JAG uniform, you are in the group that will hit first if the romulans show up. If you are wearing the Space Command uniform, like mine, you will conduct follow-on operations following the first strike by JAG units.”  
Chekov looked over the assembled group. “At this time I want to call Captain Sagittarius Hunter and Commander Kenneth Dolphin up here to join me.” As the two JAG officers took their places on stage, Chekov fished a small box out of his uniform.  
“Doctor Dolphin, Admiral Urban Yasutake sends his apologies for not being here to do this himself and asked me to do this in his stead.” Chekov removed a solid pip from the box and pinned it to Dolphin’s collar. “Congratulations Captain Dolphin. Star Fleet Chief of Staff Jamal El Fadil has approved this action as a field promotion. They, and a number of other very powerful people in the Federation are displaying great confidence in you. Do not disappoint them. Do you care to say a few words?”  
Dolphin stepped forward. “If you are wearing the black JAG uniform like mine and serving on a Prowler class ship, I want you to picture your ship’s hull or its commission plate in your mind, specifically the serial number. The U.S.S. Hunter’s serial number is N.D.C. 1201. If, like the Hunter, your ship’s serial number ends with an odd digit, you are in the Hunter group, which I will coordinate. The U.S.S. Prowler’s serial number is N.D.C. 1202. If, like the Prowler, your ship has a serial number that ends with an even digit, you are in the Prowler group, coordinated by Captain Sagittarius Hunter. Full briefing will be in the Gherman S. Titov room at 1300 hours. That is all.” Captain Dolphin stepped back.   
Admiral Chekov cleared his throat, then said, “Are there any questions?” Chekov nodded toward one of the captains in the front row. “Captain Red…”  
“Why would the JAG boats conduct the first strike?”  
“If the romulans show up, you will see,” Chekov answered. “With no other questions, we are adjourned. Get back to your other duties!”

A few minutes later, Captains Budi, Hunter and Dolphin were in the Titov room along with Admiral Chekov and a small bottle of vodka. “A drink to our new brother in the family of Star Fleet captains,” said Chekov. He poured a single shot of vodka for each of the three captains and one for himself. He raised his shot glass to Dolphin. “Vashe zdorovye!*”  
The admiral drained his shot. The captains followed suit. 

Checkov tapped Dolphin on the chest with his freshly emptied shot glass. “I know why the Federation Trubunal hasn’t charged you and your crew for all that mayhem in Romulan space. The Irons family, Ivonovic, Chief Justice Bashir… You definitely have friends in high places. Friends who are all too eager to sweep this nightmare under the rug. But you have to tell me why the romulans banned you from the courtroom instead of putting you lot on trial.”  
“Under Romulan jurisprudence, we could only have been charged for disobeying our captain’s orders,” Dolphin replied. “Only the commanding officer is responsible for the consequences of those orders. They didn’t call us as witnesses because we weren’t needed. Minerva had promised to plead guilty.”  
Chekov laughed grimly. “Lawyers! You always find a way to wiggle out of everything!”  
Dolphin made an amused noise. “Law: My family’s business since 1947.”

Chekov shook his head slowly. “Don’t get me wrong, Captain Dolphin,” he said. “I’m not sad about you helping to blow up a bioweapons research facility deep in enemy territory. I just worry that you have been promoted too quickly. You have only been in Star Fleet four years – only two other officers ever made captain in such a short period of time. Now I know you had a long talk with Urban. Tell me why he put you in charge of this action. You’re his newest captain and he could have sent Rear Admiral Sally Zimmerman Eaves.”  
Dolphin set his shot glass down. “I think you think that I’m too ready to take command of any situation.”  
“I noticed that in the Battle over Rings,” Chekov rejoined. “I would say instead, too ready to take credit.”  
Dolphin made an amused noise, smiled. “I had been told the andorians were afraid of my name. I figured that gave me a tactical advantage and I used it.”  
“So it’s your name that Admiral Yasutake wanted coordinating the JAG fleet out here in the field?” asked Captain Budi.  
“No,” Dolphin replied. “The problem is that most of the captains and first officers in these Prowler class ships are primarily lawyers and judges. Sage and I are really the only two who have combat experience, and mine is much more extensive. Nothing like yours, but the last fight most of Admiral Yasutake’s commanding officers have seen was in a courtroom. That’s true for Rear Admiral Eaves as well.”   
Chekov rolled his eyes. “Why in all the Milky Way was the JAG fleet set up this way?”  
“We weren’t originally conceptualized as a fighting force, Admiral,” Dolphin replied. “As Sir Geoffrey observed, our ships were designed to overtake and overpower pirates. JAG deliberately recruited JAG lawyers and judges with courtroom experience to efficiently catch pirates and smugglers, indict them, conduct investigations, preserve evidence, and make sure there are no due process errors – which has been bedeviling our attempts to put down piracy and break up syndicates whenever Space Command got involved in law enforcement actions. We’re equipped with forensic labs, civilian investigators, special tactical squads and even our pilot corps is more geared toward intercepting outlaws than dealing with military threats.”  
Chekov made an amused noise. “Perhaps putting you in charge in the field isn’t that bad an idea after all… You’re going to have to figure out how to get a passel of legal bureaucrats to fight like soldiers.”  
“Not so much like soldiers,” Dolphin mused. “More like special forces. I had Geoff run our new phaser configuration against cardassian, ferengi, orion, nausicaan, breen, andorian, klingon and even other Star Fleet hulls. We can take down the shields of pretty much any war ship in an ambush. But if we hang around to try to cut through their hulls, we’re still likely to start taking significant casualties. So my recommendation is we take their shields down, then run away and let Space Command mop them up.”  
“Which is the plan,” Captain Budi confirmed. “But it does sound a little cowardly…”  
“It should dramatically reduce casualties on all sides,” Dolphin rejoined. “You’re flying a romulan warbird. I just took your shields down, but now, with my tiny phasers, I’m essentially trying to cut through your hull with a welder’s torch. What do you do? You keep fighting...” Chekov and Budi both nodded.  
“Now let’s try that again,” Dolphin continued, “only I run away after taking down your shields and now you’re facing an Escort class starship that could cut through your hull while your shields were still up. Without shields, your ship won’t survive a single hit – and that’s just the Escort class… Try that with the Intrepid class or an old Galaxy class. There you are with your pants down around your knees facing the biggest phaser cannons in the Alpha Quadrant – you can’t even go to warp because your navigational screens are down… Most captains would surrender at that point…”

_*Vashe zdorovye! – “To your health!”_

23.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Characters referenced but not appearing:
> 
> Character: Admiral Urban Yasutake  
> Human Ethnicity: Italian, Japanese  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Rome, Italy, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 23.2  
> Age when introduced: 58  
> Role: Director and Primary Judge, Star Fleet Office of Judge Advocate General
> 
> Character: Rear Admiral Sally Zimmerman Eaves  
> Human Ethnicity: Ukrainian  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Lutsk, Ukraine  
> Introduced: Episode 23.2  
> Age when introduced: 58  
> Role: Assistant Director and Judge, Star Fleet Office of Judge Advocate General


	53. Episode 23.3 - JAG Wars: Coins and Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Romulan Imperial Senate returns the U.S.S. Hunter's youngest pilot. Ambassador Guth (recently retired from Star Fleet) is waiting to pick her up.
> 
>  _Guth paused, then: “Okay, I’ve been dying to ask… We were all watching the broadcast of the trial. It cut out just as it looked like Justice Irons was being beamed out…”_  
>  _“It was unreal,” said Hopper. “Yes, somehow, somebody managed to beam her out of a secured facility, but what you probably couldn’t tell was how weird it got just before she beamed out.”_  
>  _“Someone was doing strange things with her voice,” Guth observed._  
>  _“Someone pumped a powerful hallucinogen into the courtroom...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The name of the U.S.S. Hunter's new Assistant Flight Operations Director, whom Hopper is to pick up in Trantor, is an easter egg...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 3: Coins and Marks

23.3  
Coins and Marks

The U.S.S. Hunter was away to conference with the 6th Fleet and only a single shuttlecraft was stationed on the border of vulcan space to await the return of the Hunter’s youngest pilot. It was a heavily armed and armored shuttlecraft, but if the Hunter was dwarfed by a romulan warbird, the wagon was a speck of dust by comparison. The warbird shimmered into existence only 500 meters from the wagon. Ambassador Dewayne Guth, at the helm of the wagon, could only see a small section of the massive hull.   
Directly in front of the wagon, a hangar bay opened and a small romulan landing craft emerged. The lander was still about three times the size of the wagon, but was not a warp capable vessel. It took only a minute for the landing craft to pull alongside the shuttle and extend a docking bridge.   
Once the pressure readings stabilized, Guth opened the airlock for the wagon and was more than a little surprised to see the U.S.S. Hunter’s youngest pilot involved in a lingering and clearly romantic embrace with a very large and rather uncouth looking romulan guardsman. Guth stepped back to make room for Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper as she more or less floated into the wagon.   
“I see you’re engaged in a charm offensive?” Guth queried as he sealed the airlock and resumed the pilot seat.   
Hopper smiled. “Everyone’s terrified of him, but he has a heart of gold.”  
“Well, I suppose since we have a treaty with the Romulan Senate and they are involved in applying for membership in the Federation, your little tryst wouldn’t violate regulations against consorting with the enemy…” Guth mused. They watched through the viewscreen as the warbird retreated into vulcan space, then shimmered and vanished.  
“I’ll get to see him again,” said Hopper. “Regulations allow me to take my vacation on Vulcan.”  
“Seems you’re aiming pretty high,” Guth observed. “If I’m not mistaken, the insignia on his epaulet means he’s a commander. Same as a Star Fleet captain. Seems you have a thing for older men…”  
“He’s only 61. That’s not very old for a romulan,” said Hopper.  
“So that was his ship?” asked Guth.  
“No. He commands ground forces. He’s the military governor of Vulcana Regar, the capital city.”  
“You are a fearful little climber,” said Guth. “Well, I won’t say anything, but you will have to fill out a report for Captain Dolphin when you get back to the Hunter.”  
“Captain Irons said Dolphin would make captain,” Hopper observed. “Apparently he has friends in high places.”

Guth and Hopper rode in silence for a few minutes, then: “I take it they’re keeping that little personnel shuttle you flew there in?”  
Hopper smiled. “I told them to consider it a gift. Which means they will spend countless hours looking for espionage devices that just aren’t there.”  
Guth chuckled for a minute, then said, “When we get to Cun Ling, you’re to drop me off at Pern, then pick up Doctor Leonarda Marks from the University of Lower Trantor. She has been on Inactive Ready Reserve as a second lieutenant. I’m told Dr. Gamor wanted her and had her reactivated. Ethan Phillips is taking a promotion to become the Flight Operations Director of the U.S.S. Inspector.”  
“What is her doctorate in?” asked Hopper.  
“Military History,” Guth replied. “Specifically, fleet operations. Apparently Captain Dolphin is continuing Irons’ policy of requiring all officers above the level of ensign to have at least one advanced degree. You’ll also be picking up a Dr. Griff and Dr. Raaven to fill out the medical staff…”

Guth paused, then: “Okay, I’ve been dying to ask… We were all watching the broadcast of the trial. It cut out just as it looked like Justice Irons was being beamed out…”  
“It was unreal,” said Hopper. “Yes, somehow, somebody managed to beam her out of a secured facility, but what you probably couldn’t tell was how weird it got just before she beamed out.”  
“Someone was doing strange things with her voice,” Guth observed.  
“Someone pumped a powerful hallucinogen into the courtroom,” Hopper gushed. “I don’t know if Captain Irons was breathing it, but I was sitting next to Supreme Commander Sela and we both got a full dose. I don’t know how Sela managed it – she just took charge and started barking orders like she was fine, but I got a look at her eyes and her pupils were dilated like a wild animal. I couldn’t even stand up – the room started spinning every time I tried. If Sela hadn’t been there, I think a lot of people would have gotten trampled. She ordered everyone to crawl to the nearest exit and they did – her soldiers made sure of that. They shot anyone who tried to run – on low stun so it just knocked them off their feet. She was the one who gave me to Nikato and told him to take care of me and deliver me back to Federation space…”  
Guth just listened as the story came tumbling out of the young pilot.  
“She caught up with me just before they put me on that ship, the Heros, and I thanked her for saving my life – I’m pretty sure she did. She hugged me like I was her sister and told me to be safe… I think she was still under the effect of that hallucinogen. I know I was. I’m still a little freaked…”  
“Are you okay to fly, Specialist?” Guth asked.  
“We still have another four hours before we get to Cun Ling,” Hopper replied. “I think I will be. I just really need a sandwich and a nap…”

23.3


	54. Episode 23.4 - JAG Wars: Second Officer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Lt. Cmdr. Gaia Gamor has been summoned to meet with her captain aboard the U.S.S. Milky Way, where she receives some startling news...
> 
>  _Captain Sagittarius Hunter’s eyes widened. “I am certain I would remember if we had met, Lieutenant Commander…” He turned and in a not-so-confidential aside to Captain Dolphin, whispered. “She’s gorgeous! Where is she from?”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I designed Gaia Gamor after a Central African woman I worked with once - an exceptionally athletic, beautiful and extremely pleasant woman. And tough as nails.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter**  
Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 4: Second Officer

23.4  
Second Officer

Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor had been ordered to report to Captain Dolphin in the Gherman S. Titov conference room aboard the U.S.S. Milky Way. Captains and first officers were streaming out of the room – some were beaming out as she arrived. Dolphin was conversing with Captain Sagittarius Hunter when she spotted him.   
“Well, we’re all lawyers, so we all imagine ourselves brilliant public speakers in this group,” Captain Hunter was saying. “But I think that went over surprisingly well. Ship’s captains have egos and this lot has a double dose since most of them are also judges. And I heard some of the pre-trial grumbling – they weren’t generally inclined to be told what to do by someone who only made captain a few hours ago.”  
Dolphin made an amused noise. “I’ve handled far tougher crowds. When my dissertation and my first book went viral, Harvard University sent me on the debate circuit. My ideas were anathema in academic circles and those audiences kept me on my toes. I had to handle some mean hecklers. Some of whom were my own students… Ah, Gaia,” Dolphin waved his Director of Flight Operations over. “You’ve met Sage?”  
Captain Hunter’s eyes widened. “I am certain I would remember if we had met, Lieutenant Commander…” He turned and in a not-so-confidential aside to Dolphin, whispered. “She’s gorgeous! Where is she from?”  
Dolphin and Gamor both laughed. “You’ll have to sort that out and court that out later, Sage, but a quick answer, Lieutenant Commander Gamor was born and raised in Ingenda, Congo – pretty much the heart of Africa. She used to be my Director of Flight Operations.”  
Gamor was instantly flustered. “Used to be?”  
“Gaia, I know you just replaced Ethan Phillips,” said Dolphin. “I need you to replace yourself and get your Flight Operations department fully staffed. I have just received news that our former second officer and medical director have both been transferred. As of now, you are my Chief of Operations. I need you to check the readiness of your other two departments and be ready to report when I get back to the Hunter.”  
Gamor was even more flustered. “Um… Thank you?”  
“Dismissed, Lieutenant Commander,” Dolphin replied.  
Sagittarius Hunter chuckled quietly as Gamor walked away, still obviously stunned. “I have to give you points for style, Kenny. You act like you were born in the captain’s chair.” He shook his head. “She really is stunning.”  
“She takes care of herself,” Dolphin replied. “She made it to the quarter finals in krav maga her senior year at academy – spars with our tactical squad to keep sharp. She has superb fighting instincts. I think she’ll make an excellent captain someday. We’re in the process of doubling this JAG fleet, so they’re going to need her soon.”

At that moment, the communicator in Dolphin’s chest brought him Napoleon Boles’ voice. “Captain, Special Agent Anana Lynarr says she has an urgent message for you. Can you get somewhere private to take it?”  
“Sorry Sage, it looks like something’s come up. Dinner?”  
“I’ll still be on board,” Captain Hunter replied.

“Okay Napoleon, give me a few minutes. I don’t think anyone is using the Buzz Aldrin room…” 

23.4


	55. Episode 23.5 - JAG Wars: The Shadow of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The former Justice Minerva Irons has transformed into Shiva - a full time Section 31 agent. Section 31 had acquired the cardassian war ship that had destroyed the U.S.S. Challenger and its Romulan commander - and has turned these into Section 31 assets...
> 
>  _Remma betrayed all the signs of having been extensively tortured, almost certainly with neural-electric shock, and then telepathically dominated, probably from repeated mind melds..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I realized as I was writing this that the transformation into Shiva would have a powerful restorative effect on Irons. As if holding back this part of her personality had been sickening her...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 5: The Shadow of Death

23.5  
The Shadow of Death

“Welcome aboard the C.D.S. Milithra, Shiva,” said a small, strikingly beautiful romulan woman. “I am Remma. This is Gul Lemark.” Remma indicated a short, thick, sullen cardassian standing next to her.  
Shiva (formerly known as Justice Minerva Irons) moved slowly, but her eyes were alive, evaluating. And she was relying on her nacent telepathic abilities- gifts from distant betazoid and vulcan ancestors - more heavily than ever before. These senses seemed to have been hightened since her stroke and were still growing stronger.  
This was the transporter room of a cardassian military cruiser. Remma betrayed all the signs of having been extensively tortured, almost certainly with neural-electric shock, and then telepathically dominated, probably from repeated mind melds. It was evident that Remma did not trust Gul Lemark and never had.   
Shiva looked into Remma’s eyes, catching her rhythms – a polyrhythm that was off because a new rhythm had been superimposed over the original – an overlay. Remma had been shattered and a new personality had been constructed from the shards of the old. But parts of the original Remma remained, with her original, distinct rhythm. Shiva waited for the competing rhythms to briefly synchronize, then, at that precise moment of alignment:

“Kill him.”

The small, lovely romulan woman struck with the speed of a snake – a small knife emerged from Remma’s sleeve only long enough to just break the thick skin of the cardassian ship master’s neck, then returned to its sheath under her wrist.   
A trickle of dark orange blood. A look of surprise etched on Lemark’s face. The short, thick cardassian toppled. He was dead before he hit the deck.

Both the old Remma, the dedicated servant of the Imperial Romulan Senate, and the new Remma, a new personality, a creature specifically manufactured to serve Section 31 – both personalities had been longing to kill Lemark. Shiva’s order brought these two personalities into alignment, bringing clarity to Remma’s world. Where only a moment ago was a mind divided against itself in chaos, now stood a dedicated follower who would obey without question. A worshipper.

“This ship has no registry designation,” said Shiva. “This ship is and always has been the Shadow of Death. Have someone remove all evidence of any other name.”   
Shiva took a deep breath and felt as if the weight of the galaxy had suddenly dropped from her shoulders. Straightening her neck and shoulders was suddenly effortless for the first time in years. She did not even spare Lemark’s corpse a glance or a gesture. Her voice grew stronger, the quaver of age vanished. The smooth ring of unquestioned authority returned. “Take me to the bridge. Have someone clean that up.”

23.5


	56. Episode 23.6 - JAG Wars: Minerva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The lavardorn named Minerva is approaching the Milky Way - and she has been discovered by Old Man Crusher...
> 
>  _At that moment, a hush fell over the room. The klingons in the pit stopped fighting. All eyes turned toward the door._  
>  _An alien walked into the bar – an alien like nothing any of the regulars (except Wesley) had ever seen. Tall, unusually pale, he favored each person looking at him with a serene kindness – which was immediately insulting to the many klingon warriors in the room. His large hands each had three large fingers._  
>  _Two klingons in full armor stepped in front of the strange alien, silently challenging him..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I could write an entire series about the adventures of Old Man Wesley Crusher, alien Bob, Minerva and the rest of the gang...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 6: Minerva

23.6  
Minerva

About a half-dozen klingons were wrestling boisterously in a ring that was designed to contain them so that the rest of the establishment did not get destroyed. Blood wine was flowing freely, good-natured insults were taken at face value and at any moment, another klingon might be thrown by his companions into the fighting ring, there to face and deliver random violence. Klingons could walk out of the ring, but they could not run out or be thrown out. One klingon was thrown against this invisible barrier. He slowed as the force field flexed, then cast him back into the fray as though he had been thrown into an elastic wall.  
At the bar, an old human with long, tangled, filthy white hair and beard that faded into his long, beige robes cackled with glee at the fighters and slowly worked down a ractagino. Next to him, a rather fierce looking, balding Klingon managed to look nervous. 

“Are you certain this is when we are supposed to meet him?” asked Dr. Klingon.  
“Would you calm down?” asked Old Man Crusher in some exasperation. “There is no one here who could possibly hurt you… Find some courage. Be klingon.”  
“Is this the right time?” The Doctor asked again.  
“That’s what I was told. I have it from an unimpeachable source,” Old Man Crusher rejoined.  
“And just who told you that this is the right time?”  
“I did. I was sitting right where you are now.”  
“I hate it when you say things like that!” groused the klingon Doctor.

At that moment, a hush fell over the room. The klingons in the pit stopped fighting. All eyes turned toward the door.   
An alien walked into the bar – an alien like nothing any of the regulars (except Wesley) had ever seen. Tall, unusually pale, he favored each person looking at him with a serene kindness – which was immediately insulting to the many klingon warriors in the room. His large hands each had three large fingers.  
Two klingons in full armor stepped in front of the strange alien, silently challenging him.

“It’s all right Kowr’ush, Usak,” said Wesley. “He’s with me.”  
Slow smiles crossed the faces of both klingons. One stepped aside and gestured toward the bar. The other slapped the alien on the back a bit vigorously, causing him to cough. “Any friend of the old man is welcome here! Well met…”  
The alien, realizing the klingon was waiting for his name, hesitated for a moment, then said, “….Bob….”  
Usak responded with a strange look, then said, “Well met, Bob!”  
The serene smile returned to alien Bob’s face. He waved tentatively at the two klingons, then joined Wes and the Doctor at the bar. The activity and noise levels returned to normal as he ordered a ractagino.

“I take it this is the artificial lifeform known as the Doctor?” alien Bob asked.  
“Bob, meet Doctor Prometheus,” said Old Man Crusher. "Doc, this is Bob…”  
The large klingon transformed rather suddenly into the human form that the Doctor was more familiar with. “Doctor Prometheus???”  
“Come on Doc,” said Crusher. “You have to admit it is a whole lot better than ‘Doctor Robert.’ And it’s the name you gave to yourself.”  
Bob watched this exchange with his relaxed, serene smile. A few klingons in the saloon appeared somewhat put off at the sudden appearance of yet another human – but not enough so to raise the issue with Old Man Crusher.

“Wesley,” Bob said finally, “I have something we have both been longing to see. Doctor, I think you will like this too. It will stir your professional curiosity.”  
“Okay, but let’s take a walk first,” said Crusher. “The klingons get a little crabby about people just popping in and out of this joint.”  
“It’s a pretty rough neighborhood out there,” the Doctor objected.  
“Oh come on, Doc,” said Crusher. “It’s not as if any of these klingons could hurt you. Bob and I can take care of ourselves.”

About five minutes later and two dark and disreputable blocks away, the three were surrounded by hooded hoodlums who appeared to be more human than klingon.  
“Are we far enough from the saloon, Wesley?” Bob asked.  
“I suppose,” Crusher replied. “You’re driving.”  
To the consternation of the hooded hoodlums, the three odd travelers appeared to fade from existence.

A moment later, alien Bob, Old Man Crusher and Dr. Prometheus, appeared in a darkly lit lounge – a single ovular room in which a semicircular sofa lined about ¾ of the wall. The remaining quarter of the wall was taken up by a large, ovular viewscreen displaying, at some distance, the Milky Way galaxy.

“It appears the Lavardorn Avatar is not here at the moment,” said Bob. “When she arrives, we will tour the outside, where it will become evident that we are not riding in a ship. This is a biological creature and she does not like the term “ship.” But she has accepted a name – Dr. Carrera named her ‘Minerva’.”  
“Wesley?” the Doctor asked, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen, “Does it look to you like our galaxy is… growing?”  
Old Man Crusher turned from his study of the couch and the walls and watched the viewscreen. “It is growing!” He turned toward alien Bob. “Bob, how fast is our friend here traveling?”  
“I don’t know,” said Bob. “Very, very fast. At this rate, I expect we will arrive in the Milky Way within eight of your weeks.”

23.6


	57. Episode 23.7 - JAG Wars: The Hudson River Massacre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Dolphin sisters (Kenny Dolphin's daughters) and the half-vulcan Smith brothers (brothers of the late T'Lok Smith) take a sailing trip around Earth and end up in New York just in time for the worst terrorist attack on Earth in Centuries. 
> 
> _“Oh great Kanaloa…” came Captain Makoa Moi’s voice from the wheelhouse, “There are hundreds of them…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Among many other themes, this story is in no small part about the Dolphin and Smith families.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 7: The Hudson River Massacre

23.7  
The Hudson River Massacre

Vuk Smith and his brother Surrol had spent months in a sailboat along with a number of other Hawaiians and one New Yorker - River Dolphin. These muscular half-vulcan body-builders had sailed from Hawaii to Indonesia, from there across the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea to the Gulf of Aden, up the Red Sea to the Suez Canal, into the Mediterranean, along the coast of North Africa and through the Straits of Gibraltar into the Atlantic. They picked up Starlight Dolphin in Lisbon, Portugal for a journey across the Atlantic to take the Dolphin sisters back to their home in New York City. It had been a long, and for Vuk and River, a rather romantic journey.

A late August fog had rolled in over the Hudson River, obscuring all but the tops of the mighty skyscrapers of New York City, a few of them dating all the way back to the 20th Century. Vuk and Surrol had grown silent, watching the boat’s proximity sensors. The shipmaster, Captain Makoa Moi, was at the wheel. The sails were furled, the mast was bare to the rigging and the boat’s anchor was dropped for station keeping against the river current. The boat’s searchlights were on full and focused on the water. No other boats could be seen in the fog, except for their running lights - and that only when the harbor patrol had drifted close and had to veer away.   
The fog was too dense to allow movement by harbor rules. Only boats belonging to the New York Port Authority were allowed to operate in fog this dense.

Starlight Dolphin and River Dolphin were seated toward the stern. The rear canopy was down even though there was a bit of a cold spray to the air. The fog was so thick they could not even see the top of the ship’s mast. The sisters had their pea coats drawn tightly and were wearing ball caps that bore the ship’s name - ‘Ane Moku.

“So there were Earth First protesters in Lisbon?” River was asking. She shivered just a little as a wave slapped the side of the ‘Ane Moku and sent a spray of cold water across the deck.  
“It’s getting dangerous, especially for hybrids,” Starlight replied. “There were a few people with firearms, some of them were shooting into the air. There was a torchlight parade with people shouting, ‘End Human Replacement,’ and, ‘We will not be replaced!’ The local police wouldn’t stop them. Apparently there were quite a few local police among the protesters. They finally brought in the Lisbon Port Authority with construction machines to stop the protest when the fighting started.”  
“I’ve heard it’s been that way in New York,” River replied. “I don’t think I’m coming back to stay. The Smiths have invited me to stay with them in Hawaii. I think I’m going to give up my apartment and move there.”  
“And just what are you going to do with yourself?” Starlight asked, the beginnings of a wicked smile on her face.  
“Nothing at all,” River replied. “I’m going to be a beach bum. I don’t even think I’m going to bring anything with me. I’m going to give everything away - maybe bring a nice gown and some shoes for formal parties, but that’s it. You remember what Dad said about owning nothing but the suit he was wearing? I like that idea. Especially since I’ve been living that way for almost a year now.”  
Starlight smiled. “I’m having a hard time imagining being such a free spirit. I want my easels, my pens and brushes. And all the paint - I have a fortune tied up in it. But it is so hard to even give a painting away. No one seems to want anything so permanent.”  
River shivered a bit, then said. “Have you considered holo-painting? There is a big… did something hit the boat?”

Both sisters got up and hurried to the starboard hull where they had heard a definite thump. Something was bobbing in the water and lightly bumping the side of the boat.

“Vuk!! Surrol!!” River called as Starlight unlimbered a 3-meter life-hook from under the gunwale. She fished carefully in the water and was able to partially lift a body from the water.   
Seconds later, Surrol took the life-hook from her hands and expertly lifted the body of a young girl from the water. She was limp and quite clearly dead. The fog was starting to roll back a little.   
River screamed and pointed - several more bodies were floating in the water. The current was bringing them toward the starboard side of the ‘Ane Moku.   
“Captain Makoa!” Vuk called.   
“I see them,” the captain called back from the wheelhouse. “I am weighing anchor!” The stocky Hawaiian started the boat’s small inboard electric motor. “I’m going to steer toward them. It looks like some of them might be alive!”  
“Scott, Lilinoe,” Vuk called to their other two fellow travelers - a couple from Honolulu. “Can you get one of the lifeboats down into the water?”  
“We’re on it,” came the reply from Lilinoe Santos.   
Vuk Smith strode across the deck gathering buoys and life preservers into a large net. Starlight Dolphin, catching on to what he was doing, helped him throw the net overboard, where it landed in the water before Scott and Lilinoe Santos could get the lifeboat down into the river.   
“The water’s red!” Scott called up as his wife launched the lifeboat.   
“See if you can tow that bag of buoys,” Vuk called. “Fasten the dead to the buoys so they don’t sink. Focus on rescuing the living!” He strode over to the port side and unlimbered the other life-hook, then joined Surrol in pulling more bodies out of the Hudson River.

Both Vuk and Surrol were far stronger than any vulcan - they combined the native strength of vulcans with the ability of humans (especially Hawaiians) to put on a large amount of muscle mass in response to exercise. This enormous strength became vital, allowing them to gently lift one body after another from the water into the ‘Ane Moku. Starlight and River helped bring the bodies over the side and arranged them on the deck.   
“This one is part chelna,” said Starlight - then, “and he’s still alive!” She began CPR.  
River was crying at this point. “They’re all hybrids. And they’re all children…”

“Oh great Kanaloa…” came Captain Makoa Moi’s voice from the wheelhouse, “There are hundreds of them…”

 _*’Ane Moku - Hawaiian: “It’s a Ship.”_   
_*Kanaloa - In Hawaiian mythology, the ruler of the underworld._

23.7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Captain Makoa Moi  
> Human Ethnicity: Hawaiian  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Kaumalapau, Hawaii, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 23.7  
> Age when introduced: 37  
> Role: Captain and owner of the 'Ane Moku
> 
> Character: Lilinoe Santos  
> Human Ethnicity: Hawaiian  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Honalulu, Hawaii, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 23.7  
> Age when introduced: 23  
> Role: Passenger on the 'Ane Moku
> 
> Character: Scott Santos  
> Human Ethnicity: Filipino  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Honalulu, Hawaii, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 23.7  
> Age when introduced: 22  
> Role: Passenger on the 'Ane Moku


	58. Episode 23.8 - JAG Wars: Mercenaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Dolphin and Rear Admiral Chekov are informed that cardassian mercenaries are on their way to join the andorian and vulcan rebels at Weythan...
> 
>  _“I personally know that Star Fleet Intelligence does know this information,” Johnny said with a somewhat rueful smile. “I told them. But what makes you think they’re going to tell you about it?”_  
>  _“What???” Chekov was apoplectic._  
>  _“I’m sorry Serge, but if I made you mad it’s because you should be,” Johnny retorted calmly. “Over the past two years SFI has become a black hole. Information goes in. Nothing gets out..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Johnny Canada was the surprise gift that just keeps on giving  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
**Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 8: Mercenaries

23.8  
Mercenaries

Four Star Fleet officers were gathered in Rear Admiral Chekov’s office, situated directly below the bridge of the U.S.S. Milky Way. Captain Kenneth Dolphin was introducing them to a friendly looking man with a light brown beard whose image was displayed on the viewer. 

“Johnny - this is Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov, now commanding the 6th Fleet, Captain Sagittarius Hunter of the U.S.S. Prowler and Captain Red of the U.S.S. Intrepid.”  
“Thanks Kenny,” Johnny replied. “You can tell them about me after we end transmission. I prefer to limit access to my details. So, as I was telling Kenny, and I previously told Star Fleet Intelligence, our information tells us that there are 10,000 well trained cardassian mercenaries on Weythan - either there or on their way. We also know the cardassians have at least two more Keldon class cruisers and a new line of relatively small but powerful and versatile destroyers. You can bet there will be some cardassian shipping near Weythan. And they’re using old Horo class cloaking devices - no doubt hand-me-downs from the romulans.”  
“Why the hell doesn’t Star Fleet Intelligence know this?” asked Chekov, immediately furious.  
“I personally know that Star Fleet Intelligence does know this information,” Johnny said with a somewhat rueful smile. “I told them. But what makes you think they’re going to tell you about it?”  
“What???” Chekov was apoplectic.  
“I’m sorry Serge, but if I made you mad it’s because you should be,” Johnny retorted calmly. “Over the past two years SFI has become a black hole. Information goes in. Nothing gets out. Information is dispensed on a need to know basis - whoever doesn’t need the information doesn’t get it. The people who do need to know, are also never told.”  
“And your authority in all of this?” Chekov asked.  
“Kenny will explain - but not on a subspace channel. I am just Johnny. And better if you lot weren’t in uniform and were just Serge, Red, Kenny and… Sagittarius?”  
“Sage,” replied Captain Hunter.  
“Sage,” Jonny repeated. “I like that. That’s a great name. I have to admit I’m a bit envious. Kenny, you know that knowing they’re using Horo class cloaks gives you a tremendous advantage, right?”  
“Photon torpedoes…” Dolphin replied. Captains Red and Hunter looked at him quizzically.   
“Yes…” Chekov mused.  
“I heard good things about you, Serge,” Johnny said. “Maybe if you can find your way into SFI, things will get better for the Federation. It would be a loss for Space Command. But I’d really like to have someone high up in Star Fleet Intelligence that I can trust. Kenny, you’re not going to leave the front door open while you’re working the garden gate…”  
“We have a backup plan, Johnny,” Dolphin said. “But given recent history, I need a confirmation from you. You should have twice what we have. I need you to send me a message - just two words. ‘They’re here.’ If I don’t get your message, we’ll know something’s gone wrong.”  
“When?” asked Johnny.  
“Ten hours. No more,” Dolphin replied. “Four and Seven.”  
Chekov looked sharply at Dolphin. Dolphin held up the first finger of his right hand.  
“Speed is of the essence for you as well, Serge,” said Johnny. “Cardassians are tough out in the open. When they go to ground and dig in, it will become very expensive to dig them out.”  
“Thank you, Johnny, this has been a very enlightening discussion,” Chekov said. “Hopefully the follow-on discussion will be equally enlightening,” he added, looking at Dolphin.   
“Kenny, you know how to reach me,” Johnny said.  
“Blue,” Dolphin responded.  
With that, Johnny closed his end of the subspace communication.

All eyes turned toward Captain Dolphin.   
“Okay, Kenny,” said Chekov, “What did we just see? Who were we just talking to?”  
“Whom,” whispered Captain Hunter, under his breath, earning a snort from Captain Red and a dirty look from Chekov.  
“One of the things JAG does is develop confidential sources,” said Kenny. “Usually for probative purposes, but sometimes we stumble into a major intelligence resource. Our former civilian investigator, the late Lynhart Shran, developed a relationship with a Special Agent for the Trantor Police Department, Intelligence Division. That was him, Johnny Canada. He’s now their Deputy Director for Offworld Operations. Which makes him, I think, the third ranking officer in TPDID. He tries to keep that as quiet as possible to give him room to operate, so he’s just Johnny to us, especially on a subspace channel.”  
“So that’s why you told him the fourth and seventh fleets would be at Cun Ling, Yes?” Chekov mused.  
“Considering what happened to the sixth fleet during the Fall of Vulcan…” Dolphin added.  
“We need independent confirmation Cun Ling is protected or we need to split the sixth fleet,” Chekov concluded.  
“We got a lot more than that," Dolphin observed. "Star Fleet cannot get involved in internal affairs for the vulcans or the andorians, but we have a mandate to eject cardassian military forces. The cardassians use interceptors - which Star Fleet will need to remove from Weythan. Anyone who shoots at us while we’re doing that is fair game. And we need to deal with those cardassian war ships. We’re going to need a vulcan science ship – one with the best available subspace sensor array. Can you get us one of those?”  
“I can arrange for that,” Chekov responded.  
“We will also need a ferengi merchant ship to resupply our photon torpedoes and provide protection for that vulcan ship – and I know just where to get one of those,” Dolphin added. “Sage, I suggest we leave the Prowler group here in case we need to re-route you to defend Cun Ling. Once we get confirmation that the fourth and seventh fleets are on station in the A Boo system, we’ll call you in.”  
“We’ll leave the Galaxy, the Scorpion and the Vigilant with you so you have some eyes, ears and teeth in case you need them,” said Chekov. “Red, get with Suparman about a Vulcan Science Academy ship with capabilities for detecting those old Horo class cloaking devices. Kenny, Sage - get with your people about what to do with that information. I want a detailed attack plan on my desk within the hour.” Chekov got up, brought his hands together with a clap. “Now people - move!”

“Why a ferengi merchant ship?” asked Captain Red as the three captains were exiting Rear Admiral Chekov’s office.  
“The cardassians won’t shoot at a ferengi ship,” Captain Sagittarius Hunter replied. “That’s where they get their weapons from.”

23.8


	59. Episode 23.9 - JAG Wars: The Trillian Ultimatum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> While the 6th Fleet is supporting the Andorian Empire and Vulcan High Command in Exile at Weythan, a military coup has overthrown the democratic government of Trillus Prime...
> 
>  _“I am General Hialal Mulaax. The illegal body purporting to be the legitimate government of the trill people has been obliterated, as have the representatives of our terran oppressors and many of their allies. Trillus Prime is now free. The Federation must withdraw all Federation assets and personnel within three days..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Federation is coming apart at the seams - just as a new Federation President is about to take office - President Elect Emory Ivonovic...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 9: The Trillian Ultimatum

23.9  
The Trillian Ultimatum

Siev th’Stavin had the burden of bringing both the good news and the bad news to his friend and mentor.  
Federation Councilmember Emory Ivonovic was already pretty much aware of the good news. Ivonovic stood up from behind his desk and ushered th’Stavin to the library area of his office. He retrieved a bottle of andorian ale from the shelf and poured some for the ambitious andorian bureaucrat.

“I can tell from your antennae that something is wrong. Very wrong,” Ivonovic said. Siev’s antennae were so agitated they appeared to be wrestling with each other.   
“First, you deserve to know that you won by a wide margin,” said th’Stavin. “You will need to move to Caracas by November 1.”  
“Out with it, Siev,” said Ivonovic. “What is it that has you so upset?”  
“I think it’s better that I show you…” th’Stavin activated a large viewscreen.   
“I don’t recognize the city,” said Ivonovic.  
“Leran Manev on Trillus Prime. That’s the United Federation of Planets building on the left and then the Trill Senate Tower…” th’Stavin said. There was a bright light as both buildings were repeatedly bombed from above, testing their shielding systems. Explosions inside both buildings just moments later brought down their shielding systems and a second round of bombing reduced both buildings to rubble.   
Ivonovic closed his eyes, grimaced and took a deep breath. “How many?”  
“Estimates are just over 7,000,” th’Stavin replied. “The Trill Senate was in session - an address by the primary administrator…”  
“Which means all of the ambassadors, most of the Trill government, probably at least a dozen symbionts…” Ivonovic sank slowly into a chair.   
“That’s just the start,” said th’Stavin.   
The image of an older male trill, clad in some rather garish sort of military uniform, appeared on the screen. “I am General Hialal Mulaax. The illegal body purporting to be the legitimate government of the trill people has been obliterated, as have the representatives of our terran oppressors and many of their allies. Trillus Prime is now free. The Federation must withdraw all Federation assets and personnel within three days or forfeit them to the Trillian Master Forces. My people are disciplined, but we have grown weary of alien domination of our world and Federation greed for our resources. You do not want to leave your people here on Trillus. Three days. And the traitors who claim to represent Trillus for their Federation masters must be returned to us to stand trial. They will want to return if they care about their families.”

Ivonovic was on his feet and clearly furious. He strode to his desk and hit the intercom switch. “Joanna, please get me President Rodriguez.” He walked back to the library area where Siev th’Stavin was standing. Ivonovic put a hand on the andorian bureaucrat’s shoulder. “Siev, I want you to come to Caracas with me.”  
“As your liaison to the Andorian Empire?”  
“As my chief of staff.”  
Joanna Trevor’s voice came over the intercom: “Sir, President Maria Rodriguez for you…”  
“On screen,” said Ivonovic. The image of a plump, middle-aged Mexican woman appeared on the screen.  
“I was anticipating your call, Mr. President-Elect,” said Rodriguez. “I only wish my term were already over. Four hundred children floating in the Hudson River, race riots on Rising Sun, sections of Lower Trantor under martial law, cardassian mercenaries on Weythan, bombings on New Hope, and now a military coup on Trillus Prime…”  
“Unfortunately, Madam President, we can’t wait until November to act.”  
“Emory, can you come to Caracas now? We need to coordinate so that there is an orderly handover. I don’t mind telling you - war with the Romulan Empire, I was prepared for. But open rebellions within the Federation… How did it come to this?”  
“We weren’t prepared for it,” Ivonovic responded. “We don’t have the tools to deal with it at the Federation level. If it was just one local issue or another… But it isn’t. I have a feeling this is just the tip of the iceberg. Maria, it’s 17 hours 21 here in Nairobi - that makes it 10:21 there in Caracas? I can be there by noon your time, can you have an office ready for me? Nothing fancy - three desks and a communication system. I will bring two people with me.” Ivonovic looked at th’Stavin - “Siev, you will come?”   
“Of course,” the andorian bureaucrat responded.   
“Tell Joanna she’s coming too. I need to gather a few things…”  
“And General Mulaax?” asked President Rodriguez.  
Ivonovic turned to the viewscreen. “Eh… He’s been plotting his little takeover for years. He can wait a few hours to hear from us. Let him sweat a little.”  
“I will look forward to your arrival, Emory.” Maria Rodriguez signed out.  
Siev th’Stavin had already left.  
Ivonovic stuck his head out of the door that led to his outer office and reception area. Joanna Trevor had already gotten up from her desk.  
“Joanna - I need you to put in one more call for me before you grab your go-bag…”

23.9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: General Hialal Mulaax  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Joined Trill  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Laren Manev, Trillus Prime  
> Introduced: Episode 23.9  
> Age when introduced: 77  
> Role: Leader of the Trillus Master Forces Rebellion


	60. Episode 23.10 - JAG Wars: Space Superiority

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Dolphin calls in a favor from the powerful Ushi Irons to establish space superiority over Weythan...
> 
>  _“Lieutenant Marks,” said Dolphin. “Is your department ready for a fight? Because you’re about to get two fights in one day.”_  
>  _“I am ready,” Marks responded._  
>  _“We, Marks. We,” Dolphin corrected. “Your pilots are about to see action. A lot of it..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I did not make it explicit in the last scene, but Dolphin and Ivonovic are in weekly communication. Usually letters, but occasionally Ivonovic puts in a call. They have been very useful to each others' careers..  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 10: Space Superiority

23.10  
Space Superiority

“Our plan is to hit the cardassians at Weythan and then run - all the way to Trillus Prime…” Captain Kenneth Dolphin was meeting with his executive and senior staff in the executive conference room.  
“I take it that you have not yet taken this up with Rear Admiral Chekov?” asked Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles, the half-bolian first officer.  
“He will hear about this assignment first from Admiral Yasutake," Dolphin replied. "I prefer to present the admiral solutions instead of problems. I need all of you to provide me those solutions. We need to make short work of the cardassians at Weythan to clear the way for the andorians and vulcans to re-take the colony. There will be plenty of Star Fleet vessels around Weythan, but we need to get there first. I want us to get the party started, establish space superiority, give the joint andorian and vulcan forces a head start on establishing air superiority and then move on to Trillus Prime.” Dolphin looked about at his executive officers and department directors.  
“I can’t imagine how we could put together enough of a fleet to re-take Trillus - even if that were legal,” said Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor. “Trillus Prime was not one of the 19 founding worlds, so sections 2 and 29 of the Federation Charter, protecting democratic governments, do not apply.”  
“Thank you Gaia, but that is not our problem to solve," Captain Dolphin replied. "We have been tasked to protect the symbionts, as required by treaty. Their environment is under siege. T’Lon, I need you to come up with a ground game. We will take five other Prowler class ships with us. Select the ships you want based on their crews, particularly their ground operations departments. Dr. Marks,” Dolphin turned toward the new assistant director of flight operations. “We do not yet have a director of flight operations, so you are acting in that role. We need a plan to provide air support for the symbionts." He turned to look at his director of engineering. "Dr. Moon, I need your team working on how to harden the symbionts’ defenses. We need some staying power to this plan - it will probably be a few weeks before we can expect significant relief.”

Dolphin returned his gaze to his acting flight operations director. 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks had thin, sharp features that betrayed a mixture of human, klingon and romulan heritage. There was a belligerence to her dark eyes that matched her clipped, precise accent, but was at odds with her non-stop, nervous, twitchy movements.  
“Lieutenant Marks,” said Dolphin. “Is your department ready for a fight? Because you’re about to get two fights in one day.”  
“I am ready,” Marks responded.  
“We, Marks. We,” Dolphin corrected. “Your pilots are about to see action. A lot of it. Gamor, you’re in the chair. Marks, you’re flying the tactical unit. Gaia – you make the rest of the assignments, but I need T’Lon working on the Trillus plan. Napoleon and I will coordinate the attack from my office. T’Lon – you have fifteen minutes to tell me which ships you want for the Trillus mission.”  
Without missing a beat, the vulcan director of ground operations replied. “I want the Tracker, the Trapper, the Fowler, the Birder and the Inspector.”  
“Excellent,” Dolphin replied. “Napoleon, ring them up and give them the good news. I need to talk to Serge.” Dolphin thumped the table with two fingers and stood up. “Let’s go!”

23.10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks  
> Human Ethnicity: Hungarian  
> Additional Species: Romulan, Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Trantor, Cun Ling  
> Introduced: Episode 23.10  
> Age when introduced: 41  
> Role: U.S.S. Hunter Assistant Director of Flight Operations


	61. Episode 23.11 - JAG Wars: The Venus Incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Earth First tops the Slaughter on the Hudson with a far more unimaginable atrocity...  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I think the story below is plausible both scientifically and ethically. Carl Sagan argued that if life of any sort were found on Mars that the planet should be off limits to human habitation. I disagree - for the reasons (or at least the rationale below.)  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 11: The Venus Incident

23.11  
The Venus Incident

Even before First Contact, Earth scientists had realized that Venus could be terraformed with less effort and far more sustainability than Mars.   
  
The first steps in terraforming Venus would be to introduce chemical agents that would explosively cool and quickly transform the atmosphere from a poisonous soup (from the standpoint of terrestrial life) into an environment that could, over the amazingly short period of a hundred years, be tamed and transformed by terrestrial plant life into a breathable atmosphere. The first few moments of such a transformation would obliterate any native life on Venus. Residue from the initial explosion would remain in the upper atmosphere, reflecting a portion of the sun’s energy back into space, to make the planet habitable for terrestrial life. 

The problem with terraforming Venus was primarily an ethical one: Mars was dead. Native life had little or no future because of the lack of a planetary magnetosphere. Venus, on the other hand, was very much alive and if there was already life there, a preponderance of ethicists held that the human race had no right to the planet and should allow its biosphere to evolve unmolested.  
  
Terraforming Mars presented the scant native Martian life with a future and potential for growth in symbiosis with transplants from Earth. When simple, single-celled lifeforms were discovered in the boiling hell of the Venusian atmosphere, it was immediately clear that terraforming Venus would be an act of genocide against a unique biosphere rich with potential for rapid development.   
Further research by Star Fleet into the native life on Venus revealed a rich diversity of interrelated and symbiotic macroscopic lifeforms, some living and breeding in the middle atmosphere and never touching the ground. Amazing flora of some sort rapidly grew to thousands of kilograms on the edges of rivers of magma. This science was changing assumptions about the beginnings of life not only on Earth but in general.   
Research into how to transform Venus into a wold that could be colonized by terrestrial life – via an irreversible cascade effect – received continued support from Earth First groups long after the Federation Council and United Earth Governments had passed a joint resolution declaring Venus to be a protected world. Following the requirements of the joint resolution, no life forms were to be introduced to Venus. But sterilized robots were sent in to learn more. Recent robotic expeditions found that some Venusian life forms had consumed earlier robots, incorporated their components and were even beginning to trade some of these refined products. This discovery kicked off a fierce debate within the exobiology community and in philosophical circles whether this behavior constituted evidence of intelligent life. 

Federation President-Elect Emory Ivonovic, his newly appointed Chief of Staff, Siev th’Stavin, and his longtime personal secretary and now paralegal, Joanna Trevor, had been crowded into a corner office in the basement of the United Federation of Planets Administration Building #1 in Caracas, Venezuela. The presidential suite was on the 5th floor. The top three floors were filled with security. The UFP Administrative Park held 51 buildings that comprised the bulk of Federation administrative functions – although many of these functions were duplicated in smaller facilities on many federation worlds.  
Ivonovic and his loyal staff of two spent almost as much time in the presidential suite with President Maria Rodriguez and her staff as they did in their tiny, hastily converted office. They were meeting with a rather alarmed delegation from the colony on Rising Sun about race riots and lynchings that had claimed well over a hundred lives when the building’s security system went to red alert.   
The alert klaxon was extremely loud and clearly designed to make conversation impossible. Security personnel flooded into the room to crash both the president and the president-elect. Their lunch party was brought to the T’Plana-Hath room – the primary office of the president. 

“This is no drill,” President Maria Rodriguez said to Ivonovic as she took her place behind her desk. “I am always alerted to scheduled drills…”  
A young vulcan, one of many presidential aides, was admitted to the room. He dashed over to the president and whispered in her ear. Rodriguez’s eyes widened. “Ceiling viewer, sky, protected mode,” she said.  
The entire ceiling of the president’s office was a viewer and the late afternoon sky was suddenly projected. The sun was muted so that it could be looked at safely. A few degrees from the sun, a very bright point was vacillating, growing brighter, then gradually dimming. A visual chart beside it displayed a brightness meter, indicating it was briefly glowing much brighter than the sun itself.  
“What is that?” th’Stavin asked.  
“A starship – a warp core breach?” asked Ivonovic. “Are we under attack?”  
Maria Rodriguez was leaned back in her chair, staring at it. Then she sat forward and put her head in her hands. The room was silent. 

President Rodriguez took a deep breath, looked up at Ivonovic, her expression equal parts shock and grief.

“It’s Venus…”

23.11


	62. Episode 23.12 - JAG Wars: First Strike at Weythan

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 12: First Strike at Weythan

  
23.12  
First Strike at Weythan

A vulcan science ship arrived in the Weythan system. Moments later it was joined by the ferengi marauder, the F.M.S. Usotro. The two ships docked. About two hours later, three bolian freighters entered orbit of Weythan. Almost at the same moment, sixteen Prowler class starships, including the U.S.S. Hunter came out of high warp near Weythan, each pausing only briefly to launch two long-range interceptors, then leaping to warp again as the interceptors entered the atmosphere. The individual compartments on the three bolian freighters opened, disgorging two andorian or vulcan heavy interceptors per compartment. Each freighter carried 18 compartments; within five minutes, more than a hundred andorian and vulcan heavy interceptors were following their 32 lighter Star Fleet counterparts into the cold, cloudy atmosphere of Weythan.  
At the same moment that the 16 Prowler class ships were offloading their interceptors near Weythan, the tactical units for each of those starships came out of high warp in a loose configuration just below the orbital plane of Weythan about 20,000 kilometers from the planet. Each tactical unit fired a single photon torpedo upon coming out of warp, then went back to warp as a volley of photon torpedoes sped upward, toward, apparently, nothing…   
Then the torpedoes began exploding against the unprotected hulls of cloaked cardassian vessels, causing each of the seven cardassian ships to immediately de-cloak and causing cascades of secondary explosions. The torpedoes had been targeted with tremendous accuracy, each finding the unprotected fore or aft torpedo tube of a cardassian ship, causing the cardassian payloads of subatomic weaponry to explode inside their armories. Within minutes, nothing was left of the previously cloaked cardassian armada but rubble and trace gasses…

Inside the atmosphere of Weythan, Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper was flying an interceptor into live fire for the first time. Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq was riding second seat, targeting the interceptor’s weapons, reviewing telemetry and providing support for the freshman pilot.  
“Flack ahead,” said zh’Qaoleq. “Let’s stop short, drop to 15 meters above the deck, then up and forward at 12 degrees, full throttle.”  
“Port or starboard?” asked Hopper as she brought the interceptor to a sudden stop. Both pilots grunted as the inertial dampeners were not able to fully compensate for the sudden change in velocity and they were thrown forward against their seat restraints. This was a soft, springy webbing. Even with all these systems to reduce the shock of inertial changes, flying a Star Fleet interceptor to its full potential required peak physical strength and endurance.  
“You choose,” zh’Qaoleq replied. “Zig, then zag.”  
“You’re not firing on the weapon emplacements?” asked Hopper as she accelerated Interceptor 1.A upward and to port to stay beyond the targeting of those emplacements.  
“Just recording their location. They’re not going anywhere,” zh’Qaoleq responded.  
At that moment, Flight Specialist Winnifried Salazaar’s voice came through the comm system: “Yellowbird on your tail. Two of them!”  
“Give us another dead stop, Hopper,” said zh’Qaoleq. The white Star Fleet interceptor stopped again and two yellow cardassian heavy interceptors flashed by. Thyssi zh’Qaoleq had one of them dialed in and sent a series of phaser blasts after the interceptor she had targeted. Salazaar took off after the other. Hopper brought the Star Fleet interceptor up to full speed in three seconds, again pushing the inertial dampener to its limit, pushing herself and her andorian co-pilot into their seats, rapidly catching up to the cardassian interceptor. At a range of less than 800 meters, zh’Qaoleq scored several successive hits and shredded the yellow cardassian interceptor, sending shards of it all over the barren, cold, forbidding landscape below. “Take us home, Hopper,” said zh’Qaoleq. “Winnie, back to the barn!” she added. “Dock check on arrival then four hours sack time. We go again in nine,” concluded the andorian master pilot as both of the Hunter’s interceptors headed directly skyward.

“All interceptor pilots be aware, you have three minutes to get out of the way,” came Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles’ voice over the comm systems of all Star Fleet, Andorian Imperial Guard, and Vulcan High Command interceptors. “Begin countdown…”  
“Not enough time to get back into the barn,” said Thyssi. Let’s go high, keep an eye to the sky and watch the show.”  
Well over a hundred interceptors fled Weythan’s atmosphere and flew out beyond the tactical units and platforms of the 16 Prowler class ships. As the silent countdown, reflected in the control panels of each ship, reached zero, each of these 32 units opened up with simultaneous phaser fire, pinpointing the gun emplacements that had fired on the interceptors just moments previously.  
“And there go those ground gun emplacements,” said zh’Qaoleq. “That’s why we just recorded where those were and passed that data back to our home ships. Our job was to knock down anything the cardassians were flying. Okay, they’re done and coming back,” she added as the Hunter and its tactical unit cleared Weythan’s atmosphere. “Now we can dock.”  
Napoleon Boles’ voice came back over the comm system of selected interceptors. “Interceptors for the U.S.S. Hunter task force sub-group T, please dock immediately. Sub-group T, rendezvous at the F.M.S. Usotro as soon as your birds are in their nests. The sixth fleet has just arrived and we have achieved space superiority. Sub-group T will depart for secondary target in twenty minutes.”

About ten minutes later, 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks was working with Flight Engineers Thomas Hobbs and Tomos to load two replacement photon torpedoes from the F.M.S. Usotro onto the U.S.S. Hunter - both bound for the tactical unit as Marks had used two torpedoes during the scrum - one during the run on the cardassian ships and another on a particularly deep and well shielded gun emplacement on the planet. Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor was inspecting the tactical unit post-flight.   
“We got superb telemetry from that vulcan science ship,” said Marks. “They must have seen right through those antique romulan cloaking devices the cardassians were using. But why didn’t the cardassians destroy that vulcan ship?”  
“That’s a Dolphin plan at work,” Gamor replied. “Damon Trock of the Ferengi Merchant Ship Usotro does a lot of jobs for the Irons family. Captain Dolphin reached out to Ushi Irons and arranged for Trock to be here to resupply our photon torpedoes but also to serve as protection for the vulcans. With that vulcan ship docked to a ferengi merchant vessel, the cardassians couldn’t attack without making enemies of the ferengi - and thereby cutting off their supply of weapons.”  
“And we get a double value from taking out that many cardassian ships,” Gamor continued. “Those were military vessels. Mercenary actions like this is how they are paying for their civil war against the DeTappa Council. We just put a big hole in their ability to pay for that war. It may have tilted the scales in favor of the civilian authority on Cardassia. We couldn’t get directly involved in their civil war, but if the rump military command wants to send cloaked ships into Federation space, we are well within our rights to shoot first and ask questions later.”  
“You don’t think this could lead to another war with the Cardassians?” asked Marks.  
“Captain Dolphin thinks the cardassian military wants deniability on this kind of action,” Gamor replied. “Rear Admiral Chekov agrees with him. So do I.”

23.12


	63. Episode 23.13 - JAG Wars: Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A family of trills flee to the Sanctuary of the Symbionts to escape the civil war engulfing their planet...
> 
>  _It took only a few moments for her young family to dodge among the houses of this small village into a broad field of siplar grasses – the most common and versatile agricultural product on Trillus Prime. While tall enough to conceal their presence, the grasses also betrayed the Boels’ location as they ran. Not that it mattered to the sporthogs. They were following a scent and bellowing their love for the hunt..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Pronunciation guide: Lt. Grorher's name is pronounced by rolling all three 'r's - the first to are pronounced like the French "r" by vibrating the middle of the tongue against the soft palate. The ending "r" begins as a French "r", but finishes like an Arabic "r", rolled hard with the tip of the tongue against the hard palate. Try it a few dozen times - you'll get it...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 13: Sanctuary

23.13  
Sanctuary

Jeene Beol and her children were on the run. Facial surgery had removed the evidence of bajoran ancestry from their faces. But records of their nose jobs had been kept and this information had now fallen into the hands of the newly minted Trillian Master Forces – renegade elements of the Trill military that had staged a coup under the leadership of General Hialal Mulaax. Jeene’s husband, Rumor Beol, was a trill intern with the Vulcan High Command, most of whom had been killed in the hours after the destruction of the planetary government district in western Laren Manev. A vulcan science ship evacuated all surviving personnel, including Rumor, but was unable to locate the remainder of the Beol family due to interference from Trillian military vessels.  
It was astounding how quickly a bureaucracy had been put in place to check documents and control the trill population. While light skin was common among all trills, those with strong spotting along their necks were considered somehow to be the epitome of trill evolution. Those whose spots were very light were thought of as some sort bastard race while those whose spots covered most of their bodies were thought to be little more than animals. This racial prejudice had been suppressed for generations and had only returned to the surface during a few short-lived periods of military domination.   
Despite the best efforts of the trill government, the military still relegated trills with less than preferred spotting characteristics to support roles with the rationalization that restricting membership in fighting units to preferred trills fostered unit cohesion and morale on the battlefield. While never called on to actually fight, the military had used the Cardassian War, the Borg Incursions and the War with the Dominion to increase its resourcing and recruitment.

The Vulcan High Command in Exile had provided the Beol family with false documents showing them to be from an undiluted, preferred bloodline despite their bajoran heritage. But the sporthogs would know better. Sporthogs were trained to sniff out hybrid trills. Jeene and her son and daughters were waiting in line at a checkpoint when the sporthogs were brought out. Simple possession of the false documents would mean a death sentence for her and her children. She gathered her children, broke out of line and ran. They were so close to the Cave of the Symbionts – one of very few safe places and the one she had trained herself and her children to run to in case of danger.  
It took only a few moments for her young family to dodge among the houses of this small village into a broad field of siplar grasses – the most common and versatile agricultural product on Trillus Prime. While tall enough to conceal their presence, the grasses also betrayed the Boels’ location as they ran. Not that it mattered to the sporthogs. They were following a scent and bellowing their love for the hunt. Trillian Master Force soldiers, riding individual hover-scooters, followed the sporthogs. These vehicles were dangerous to ride cross-country at high speeds, but low speeds were sufficient to catch runners.

Jeene and her children made it to the edge of the field, which was bounded on this side by a ravine and a shallow creek. No longer hindered by the tall grasses, they could finally run with all their effort, but the sporthogs broke free shortly after and would catch the family before they made it across the creek.   
Just as she was despairing for her children, Jeene saw a strange creature in a red uniform stand up from the ravine, pointing a massive rifle at her. She could smell the charred air as a plasma burst from this gun passed close to her face. A few yards in front of her, a fat, powerful sporthog had caught up with her oldest daughter, Jet, and was about to leap onto her – its head lowered to skewer her with its tusks. A second plasma burst from the strange man’s rifle picked the hog off its feet and threw it backward while simultaneously roasting much of the loud, smelly beast. 

Jeene rushed past the strange man and was helping her children across the creek before it registered with her that he had not been shooting at her, but had instead quickly and expertly gunned down the four sporthogs that had been chasing her family and was now involved in a gun battle with surprised trill soldiers. While the five pursuing trill soldiers thought of themselves as an elite unit, they had never actually fought anyone who shot back at them before. Now they found themselves engaged with a battle-hardened veteran armed with what was essentially a cannon. He made short work of them.

The Boel family had run a few dozen yards beyond the creek, but stopped there to catch their breath. The odd looking soldier effortlessly hopped the creek and walked toward them. His red uniform was dirty and torn. Jeene was now able to recognize it as a Star Fleet uniform, but she had no idea what kind of man was in it. His face was covered with dark blonde fur and he had more of a snout with pronounced incisors instead of a mouth and nose. Large, dark sunglasses obscured his eyes. Bushels of dark blonde hair cascaded from the top of his head almost to his knees. The setting sun picked out red highlights in his hair and fur. Where his uniform was torn, more tawny fur instead of skin was revealed. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he was broad and carried the massive plasma rifle – a gun that looked like it belonged on a stand – casually slung over his shoulder as if it were a toy. He walked with the casual swagger of someone who only rarely spent time indoors. He seemed half man, half beast. 

Jeene had never seen anything so heroic in her life.

“You are already on sanctified ground,” said the furry soldier – his voice a low rumble. “If my readings were right, we are not far from the rear entrance to the sanctuary.”  
“Where did you come from?” Jeene asked.  
“Deep Space 9. My interceptor was shot down. I destroyed it, but I kept this plasma cannon.” He patted the gun on his shoulder.  
“I am Jeene Boel. My husband is with the Vulcan High Command. My daughters, Jet, Tana and Illa. My son, Car,” said Jeene.  
“You are part bajoran. You’ve had surgery to disguise the nose ridges – your children too,” said the soldier. “If you are ready, you should follow me to the sanctuary.”  
“How did you know?” asked Jeene, gathering her children and following.  
“I could smell it. And I could see the slightly different skin tone around the surgeries.”  
“Would you tell me who you are?”  
“Lieutenant Grorher. I was assigned to help design the new bajoran interceptors and train their pilots. The bajorans are smart. They’re using the lighter, Star Fleet design. But they get a little extra staying power in a dogfight with a backup pair of rear-facing plasma cannons.” He patted the gun on his shoulder again. “This is pretty much the only part of myinterceptor that wasn’t destroyed. But I brought down 14 trill interceptors in one day. Still, I’m not happy about losing my entire wing. They were good people – all twelve of them. None of them survived. We needed orbital support.”   
  
Grorher fell silent as twilight turned to night. He led the small family into the tree line, pausing occasionally to look carefully around the trees. After a few moments, he stooped beside a tree and carefully pulled ivy aside, revealing a door. “This is it. Stay behind me. There are guards. We will be challenged several times.”  
“How did you see that?” asked Jet, the oldest daughter. She was taller than her mother, but very much a gangling teenager.  
Grorher turned toward her. His sunglasses were hanging around his neck by a lanyard. Moonlight briefly glinted in his eyes, making them glow, giving him a demonic appearance. “My people hunt by night. Sleep by day. Or we used to.” He opened the door. “Stop just inside. You will want me to go in front.”

23.13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Jeene Boel  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Trill, Bajoran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Silgrass Hill, Trillus Prime  
> Introduced: Episode 23.13  
> Age when introduced: 28  
> Role: Refugee
> 
> Character: Jet Boel  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Trill, Bajoran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Silgrass Hill, Trillus Prime  
> Introduced: Episode 23.13  
> Age when introduced: 15  
> Role: Refugee
> 
> Character: 2nd Lt. Grorher  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Yarrosynth Hunter  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Addo Breeding Station, Addo  
> Introduced: Episode 23.13  
> Age when introduced: 28  
> Role: Flight Trainer, Star Fleet Space Command
> 
> Character: Tana Boel  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Trill, Bajoran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Silgrass Hill, Trillus Prime  
> Introduced: Episode 23.13  
> Age when introduced: 12  
> Role: Refugee
> 
> Character: Illa Boel  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Trill, Bajoran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Silgrass Hill, Trillus Prime  
> Introduced: Episode 23.13  
> Age when introduced: 12  
> Role: Refugee
> 
> Character: Car Boel  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Trill, Bajoran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Silgrass Hill, Trillus Prime  
> Introduced: Episode 23.13  
> Age when introduced: 9  
> Role: Refugee


	64. Episode 23.14 - JAG Wars: Emergency Powers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Federation President Mary Rodriguez and President-Elect Emory Ivonovic release a joint statement regarding emergency powers...
> 
>  _“This is Federation President-Elect Emory Ivonovic. President Rodriguez and I have a formal announcement regarding temporary policies to handle the current emergency faced by the United Federation of Planets. By an overwhelming majority, the Council of the United Federation of Planets has temporarily set aside restrictions on executive power..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The term "emergency powers" should be a big warning sign to anyone who cares about democracy...
> 
> Abraham Lincoln tried to suspend Habeus Corpus during the American Civil War. The courts shot him down. He managed to win the war without "emergency powers." Adolf Hitler was granted emergency powers in 1933 and in that one act German democracy died.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 14: Emergency Powers

23.14  
Emergency Powers

“This is Federation President-Elect Emory Ivonovic. President Rodriguez and I have a formal announcement regarding temporary policies to handle the current emergency faced by the United Federation of Planets. By an overwhelming majority, the Council of the United Federation of Planets has temporarily set aside restrictions on executive power in Sections 2, 3 and 4 of the Federation Charter.” Emory Ivonovic was seated in a simple office chair, dressed in a simple, but elegant dark gray 3-piece suit. Next to him, behind the massive desk of her office, sat Federation President Mary Rodriguez, wearing a burgundy gown she had often been seen in. A string of pearls she always wore around her neck.  
“And I am President Mary Rodriguez. As you almost certainly know, Emory and I have been members of different coalitions within the Federation Council, and there are many policy issues that we do not agree on. But we are in agreement on the need to take extraordinary measures to protect you, the citizens of our mighty Federation. We have worked together to craft both the resolution passed by the Federation Council and the following policies. I can only say how deeply saddened I am that we must stray so far from our traditions, our hopes and our core values. But the deepest value we share is to protect life and especially intelligent life. I truly believe these measures are our only hope to preserve the integrity of the Federation and will provide us the tools we so desperately need to protect the lives of our citizens.”  
Emory Ivonvic put on a pair of reading glasses and picked up a small sheaf of paper from his lap. “Member planets and member species attempting to withdraw their membership from the United Federation of Planets are required to follow the procedures outlined in Section 28 of the Federation Charter. Under the emergency powers authorization, this section has been interpreted to include that the government petitioning for withdrawal from the UFP must be the same government that authorized joining the Federation or a government directly authorized as a successor according to the requirements of Section 29. If there is a break in the legitimate handover of power from one member government to its successor, that successor may not petition for withdrawal. The initial government will have to be reconstituted as defined in Section 29.”  
President Rodriguez looked up. “To put this in plain language,” she continued, “the petition from the government styling itself as the Trillian Master Force and purportedly represented by General Hialal Mulaax is null and void as this government is the product of a military coup and is not a legitimate successor government as required by Section 29.”  
Ivonovic turned a page and flipped the sheaf over, adjusted his reading glasses. “Emergency authority also allows the Federation President to make direct appeal to the three allied expeditionary forces for enforcement of Federation Treaties and the Federation Charter as specified in Section 1 of the Federation Charter – a power previously reserved exclusively for the Federation Council. However, under Section 1, the Federation Council may name an agent to make such requests. Under the Emergency Powers Resolution, the Federation President is temporarily named as that agent.”  
“By this authority,” President Rodriguez continued, “I am hereby requesting Star Fleet, the Vulcan High Command and the Andorian Imperial Guard develop and enact a joint strategy to reclaim Trillus Prime for the people and restore the legitimate government of Trillus Prime.”  
Ivonovic flipped another page. “Additionally, the executive is named as the agency by the Federation Council to request the Federation Tribunal open investigations into individuals and corporate actors for potential violation of either Federation Treaty Law or the Federation Charter.”  
President Rodriguez dropped her left fist to her desk with a thump. “Under this authority, I am requesting that the Tribunal investigate and call for the immediate arrest of the trill styling himself as General Hialal Mulaax for violation of the Treaty of Trillus Prime,” she added, “as well as Section 28 of the Federation Charter and, in conjunction with that request, that Star Fleet, the Vulcan High Command and the Andorian Imperial Guard cooperate in the location, capture and detention of said individual until he can be brought to answer for his crimes against the Federation and against the people of Trillus Prime. I leave the investigation and arrest of individuals culpable of assisting the accused in these crimes to be determined by the Federation Tribunal and the combined forces.”  
“Finally,” added Ivonovic, “Let me emphasize that these extraordinary powers are temporary. They will remain in place for two years unless revoked by a 75% majority vote of the Federation Council. You may direct any questions to the office of the President of the Federation. Thank you for your attention and thank you for your confidence both in President Rodriguez and in me. You will hear our voices again. You will see our faces again. In these troubled times, we will not leave you. For all loyal, patriotic citizens of the Federation, I am President-Elect Emory Ivonovic…”  
“And I am Federation President Mary Rodriguez. It has been an honor to serve you these past six years. Please let me express my confidence in my successor that you will be well served for the next six years.”

23.14


	65. Episode 23.15 - JAG Wars: Venus First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A faction of Earth First breaks away and sends a dire warning to all of humanity...
> 
>  _“You can have Earth. All of you traitors to the human race and the mud people you have allowed to replace humanity...”_  
>  _The new logo gradually became clear - Earth First was being replaced by Venus First..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Gene Roddenberry had hopes that humanity would grow beyond our xenophobia. But in a population of nearly 70 billion humans, there are bound to be some people like these...  
>   
> I have to note that I wrote this chapter before Karen became "Karen."  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 23: JAG Wars  
Scene 15: Venus First

23.15  
Venus First

Viewscreens in various locations throughout the Federation were displaying only the logo of the outlawed terrorist organization known as Earth First - an organization that dated all the way back to First Contact. According to legend, Earth First had been founded by a brother and sister, Rutherford and Karen Jones, engineers who worked on the Phoenix project with the great Doctor Zephram Cochrane and had both shaken hands with Captain Suvuuk of the T’Plana-Haath, the first intelligent alien to make public contact with humanity.  
The logo had not changed since the early days of the organization and had always stood for the ardent belief that humans should have no contact with any alien species - intelligent or otherwise.

The narration was read by a man and a woman together, their voices heavily distorted and blended to sound like one voice, the way that all official Earth First statements had been broadcast all the way back to the early days when those voices were recorded by the Jones siblings. Their words were scrolled in a subtitle line to make sure that everyone who viewed the broadcast would understand it:  
  
“We are Earth First. This is a vital announcement. As of this broadcast, we are Earth First no longer. The argument about life on Venus is over. As you can tell from the events of last week, there is no life on Venus. But there will be.”  
The logo was gradually morphing - the historic Earth First logo was fading, being replaced by a new image.  
“You can have Earth. All of you traitors to the human race and the mud people you have allowed to replace humanity, slowly diluting our red blood with orange and pink, green and blue and those whose blood has no color. You can have Rising Sun, the Colony of New Hope, Deneva, Cun Ling, Mars and Proxima. We are no longer interested in those worlds. They have been sullied by your treason to the human race. And by you billions who have been asleep while our race has been slowly destroyed from within.”  
  
The new logo gradually became clear - Earth First was being replaced by Venus First.

“Venus is ours and is reserved for humans only. Any non-humans or worse yet, the bastards of human and non-human, any of you who enter the atmosphere of Venus will be destroyed. We know well the military power of Star Fleet. But you know our power. You have seen your bastard children floating in the Hudson River. You have seen these abominations hanged on Rising Sun and burnt at the stake on the Colony of New Hope. If Star Fleet tries to interfere with our transformation of Venus, we promise you, the rivers and streets of your mongrelized worlds will run red with mongrel blood. Blue with mongrel blood. Green with mongrel blood.”

“We are Venus First and our demand is simple. Leave Venus to us and we will leave you in peace. Interfere with our colonization of Venus and watch your bastard children die - not by the hundreds - not by the thousands - but by the millions.”

23 – JAG Wars


	66. Episode 24 - A Trillian Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Dolphin leads a small task force to protect the Cave of the Symbionts from General Hialal Mulaax and the Trillian Master Force...
> 
>  _The trill also espoused an unusually enlightened sense of ethics. Star Fleet Academy’s Xenoanthropology Department started making noises about the trill enlightenment being too good to be true. They had no idea how right they were…_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Introduction to Episode 24  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem

Episode 24 – A Trillian Problem

“ _The trill seemed unique among intelligent species encountered by the Federation. Almost alone among such species, they had gotten through their pre-space and pre-FTL travel industrial revolution while doing almost no discernable damage to their biosphere. The trill also espoused an unusually enlightened sense of ethics. So much so that Star Fleet Academy’s Xenoanthropology Department started making noises about the trill enlightenment being too good to be true. They had no idea how right they were…  
_ _“By accident of geography, trills of a particular appearance were more commonly joined with symbionts. As the population disparity between humanoid trills and symbionts grew dramatically, commonly became exclusively, helping to enshrine a special status for one group of trills based on racial characteristics. This shameful secret was swept so far under the rug it was nearly a century before most Federation anthropologists were aware that trills who varied from the preferred characteristics were actually racial variants and not semi-unique mutants…  
_ _“Nothing better explains the trillian antipathy toward trill/human hybrids or hybridization with other sentient species. Officially, trills worry about not having enough trills with the appropriate genetics to support the very small number of symbionts. In actuality, they are terrified that a hybrid might be able to successfully join with a symbiont…”_

 _Dr. Kenny Dolphin -_ _The Morality of Hybridizing Sentient Species_ _._

Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter)

Captain Kenneth Dolphin  
Chief Executive Officer – Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles  
Chief Operations Officer - Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor

  
Medical Director – Lt. Jazz Sam Sinder  
Asst. Medical Director – 2nd Lt. Gabriella Griff  
Ensign Sif  
Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Kunto Wekesa (nickname Kit)  
Forensic Specialist – Midshipman Raaven  
Emergency Medical Hologram - Dr. Raj  
Tactical Medical Hologram - Dr. Kim  
.  
Director of Flight Operations – (Vacant)  
Asst. Flight Dir. - 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks  
Navigator Johanna Imex  
Navigator Auqa’rh’lth   
Ensign Chelna Zusa  
Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate)  
Flight Specialist Dih Terri  
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar  
Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper  
.  
Director of Ground Operations - Lt. T’Lon  
Asst. Ground Ops Dir. - 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves  
Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace  
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina)  
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki  
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi  
Ensign Eykirros Jones (nickname is Ike Jones)  
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo  
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment)  
.  
Director of Engineering - Lt. Moon Sun Salek  
Asst. Engineering Dir. - 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui  
Midshipman Carlos Datsun  
Transporter Engineer Dragomut  
Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars  
Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas  
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs  
Flight Engineer Tomos  
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon


	67. Episode 24.1 - A Trillian Problem: The Back Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The young (blended trill and bajoran) Boel family enters the back of the Cave of the Symbionts, led by the mysterious Star Fleet Lieutenant Grorher...
> 
>  _With a sudden splash, a large, slimy, nearly translucent slug-like animal rocketed out of the water and hit Jet squarely in the chest, carrying her a few feet away before she fell and vanished into the water. Even Grorher’s lightning reactions were not enough to keep her from being carried away. She popped up again already nearly a hundred meters away in the murky water, then was pulled down again..._  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 1: The Back Door

24.1  
The Back Door

At first the passage through the rear tunnel into the sanctuary was so dark that Jeene Boel and her children could not see at all and were relying entirely on Lt. Grorher. They could not see him, but they could hear him grumbling and grousing – a low-pitched rumble. Grorher had provided a length of rough twine. He had fastened one end to his belt. Jet Boel, walking immediately behind the broad, furry pilot, was holding onto this twine as was her brother, Car, immediately behind her, and her twin sisters, Tana and Illa. Their mother, Jeene, was holding the other end of the twine at the back of the line.   
Jet gasped as some sparks made their way in little tongues of miniature lightning along Grorher’s hair sparking back against his uniform against the back of his thigh. His hair was bushing out. Jet let out a slight giggle.  
“Don’t laugh too hard, princess,” Grorher muttered softly. “You’re next.”  
Within moments all the Boel family hair was just as bushy and electrified as Grorher’s – though this static was no doubt far more uncomfortable for the pilot as his body fur was also engaged and static lightning could be seen under his uniform. The air itself seemed to be producing light as they came to the end of the corridor. A thin stream of water was running along one of the walls.   
Before them lay a broad, glowing lake of thick, milky, light blue water topped by a glowing, bluish-white fog. The lake was bifurcated by a series of stepping stones, each no more than a foot in diameter and set about two feet apart. The water was bubbling with electricity.  
“No wonder we haven’t encountered guards,” said Grorher. “The symbionts are gathered in this end of the lake for safe keeping and to commune better. You don’t want to accidentally step into that water. Go ahead and let go of the twine – that’s not going to do us any more good at the moment.” Grorher rolled up the twine and popped it into a pocket in his uniform. There was so much static electricity in his hair that it floated around him like a large, fine blonde cloud.  
“What happens if we step in the water?” asked Jet.  
“You will be overwhelmed with telepathic communication from hundreds of symbionts all at once,” Grorher replied. “The water connects them like a giant brain.”  
“Where do you come from?” Jeene asked. “And how is it you know so much about trill symbionts?”  
“My people were one of the first intelligent species created by the Founders,” the furry pilot responded. “They built us up from a small nocturnal hunting animal called a yarrow on a planet in the Gamma Quadrant. They still use us on occasion as hunters and trackers. We were their first soldiers before they created the jem’hadar.”  
“Wait… you’re wearing a Star Fleet uniform…” Jeene interjected.  
“We’re not easily controlled,” Grorher said. “That’s why the Founders replaced us with the jem’hadar. But we have always been better soldiers precisely because we’re so independent. They brought me and a few others here to help fight their little war with Star Fleet. Then they abandoned us here. Two of my brothers and I joined Star Fleet. As for knowing about the symbionts, that’s a matter of professionalism. Before I take on any assignment, I study. When I was told last week I would be helping protect the symbionts, I interviewed a couple of joined trill who also serve in Star Fleet. They gave me a reading list.”

Grorher pivoted suddenly and caught Jet’s arm, which helped her regain her balance. She had almost fallen into the water when one of the stepping stones tilted slightly.  
“You will want to be very careful, young one. There are some ancient trill symbionts back in this area who have not joined with one of your kind in hundreds of years. They are very nearly wild. Stop for a moment and feel them. There is so much moisture and electricity in the air you should be able to feel them thinking.”  
Jet and her siblings fell silent. They stopped, perched on their stepping stones. The mist condensed on their faces and clothing. The cavern was nearly silent except for the lapping of the thick, glowing, milky-looking water at their feet and the sibilant hiss of electricity in the mist all about them. There was also a murmur – not something they could hear but the feeling of thoughts passed among many minds – flashes of words – echoes of visions…

“How did you know where to get us?” Car asked.  
“MMMmmmMMM???” Lt. Grorher rumbled.  
“You saved us. How did you know we were going to be there?”  
“I didn’t," Grorher replied. "I had found a nice, warm nook to curl up for a few hours. Those filthy sporthogs woke me up and I didn’t realize they were on the hunt until I smelled you. You weren’t part of my mission. So I modified my mission. Now you are.” He sniffed the air. “Smell that?”  
Jeene Boel and her children just looked at the big, hairy pilot.   
“They’ve noticed us," said Grorher. "I don’t know what they’re thinking about us, but I don’t like the smell of it. We’d better be moving…”

With a sudden splash, a large, slimy, nearly translucent slug-like animal rocketed out of the water and hit Jet squarely in the chest, carrying her a few feet away before she fell and vanished into the water. Even Grorher’s lightning reactions were not enough to keep her from being carried away. She popped up again already nearly a hundred meters away in the murky water, then was pulled down again.

“STOP!!!” Grorher’s voice was enough to keep the children from jumping into the water. But not their mother. Jeene Boel jumped into the water only to be immediately be subjected to powerful electric shock. She crawled back onto the rock she had jumped from, her skin and hair sparking with electricity. She stood up slowly, shivering and curled up a little.  
“They have her,” said Grorher. “There’s nothing you can do.”  
“What are they going to do with her?” asked Illa.  
“I don’t know, baby,” Jeene replied. “But Lieutenant Grorher is correct. They have her. They’re keeping her. They told me. The trills and the symbionts have taken care of each other for all of recorded history and longer. We came here seeking their protection. We need to trust them. They won’t hurt her.” Jeene wished she was as sure of that as she tried to sound. These symbionts were quiet clearly wild. She couldn’t imagine sharing her consciousness with one.

Lt. Grorher grunted, then said, “Let’s keep moving before they get any other strange ideas. We will tell the priests what happened.”  
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” said Jeene. “We’re part bajoran. The priests do not want the symbionts to be in direct contact with a hybrid.”  
“You decide how you want to handle it,” said Grorher. “But we need to move now.” He started moving among the stepping stones. The remainder of the Boel family followed reluctantly.

24.1


	68. Episode 24.2 - A Trillian Problem: Rumor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Jeene Boel's husband is in an escape pod falling toward Trillus Prime, running out of time and oxygen. Only one person can save him... And she's nearly out of oxygen too...
> 
>  _Rage that most people would never know burned in Elaine’s heart. Half vulcan and half romulan, abandoned by her parents and raised by a human con-man who had made use of and refined her tremendous mental abilities, Elaine felt she had been barely holding onto a howling rage all her life without the tools vulcans needed to suppress and redirect all that emotional energy or the military structure romulans relied on to focus it..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Biographical note - the con-man known as Norman Baker was one of the most famous members of my family. Quack and radio host, he was probably responsible for quite a few deaths of people who bought his fake cures...
> 
> You can look him up. His home and hotel in Eureka Springs, Arkansas are often featured as among the most haunted sites in the U.S. - a continuation of his fraudulent lifestyle he would have thoroughly endorsed...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 2: Rumor

24.2  
Rumor

Elaine Norman had been working on the communicators for hours, hooking them together, bridging their transmitters, changing the frequency to a narrow band, building a command into the new contraption that was never anticipated in the designs of the equipment she was cannibalizing. There was nothing else to do. She had always taken to inventing small electronic devices to bring the storm of violent emotions under control. She and her lover and best friend were trapped in an escape pod that was far too damaged to survive re-entry to the atmosphere of Trillus Prime.  
There was almost no air left, but she was damned if she was going to let it end this way. Rumor had stilled his breathing to almost nothing several hours ago. Rage that most people would never know burned in Elaine’s heart. Half vulcan and half romulan, abandoned by her parents and raised by a human con-man who had made use of and refined her tremendous mental abilities, Elaine felt she had been barely holding onto a howling rage all her life without the tools vulcans needed to suppress and redirect all that emotional energy or the military structure romulans relied on to focus it.  
Her hands were the best place to work this rage out. Elaine had finally found a little bit of happiness with the Vulcan Science Academy and this weather control assignment. Then the trills had to go and start a civil war. The ship that had rescued her had lingered longer than allowed by the Trillian Master Force, trying to rescue more refugees. Rumor had been in that last batch to be beamed up. The ship was defenseless against an assault by a half-dozen trillian destroyers and had quickly been blown to pieces, killing nearly everyone on board. Elaine was only fortunate that her escape pod had been badly damaged enough to be ignored as just more debris.  
Most people would have lost consciousness long ago with as little oxygen as she was using. Elaine’s vision had narrowed to only the tiny switches she was altering to transmit just the right code on just the right frequency. On the eighth trial, it finally worked.

After all the silence in the escape pod, the whine of the transporter beam from the main weather control satellite was almost deafening. The moment Elaine and Rumor were deposited on the transporter pad in the weather satellite, Elaine took a huge breath. It took only a few seconds, but seemed like an eternity for her brain and body to come back to life. She took another huge breath and began CPR on Rumor. His heart was still beating – very slowly. What he desperately needed was oxygen, which he wasn’t strong enough to breathe in quickly enough. She did that for him until he began breathing more deeply on his own. They were lucky no one was in the transporter room of the satellite, but other areas of this station were almost certainly occupied by Trillian Master Forces.   
With her strength nearly fully returned, Elaine effortlessly lifted Rumor and concealed him as best she could under the transporter control panel. At least he would not be seen from the door. She took several more deep breaths, stoking her anger like a blacksmith heating a forge. These soldiers would be armed. All she had to face them with was a lifetime of howling, native, unsatiated rage. Her all-too-human father had taught her that there was a time to let go of all control and just let the rage take over. This was one of those times.

Elaine took a last moment of sanity to whisper to her lover, who was just beginning to awaken, “Stay here until I am finished.”

Rumor Boel could barely move. He had been brought back from the brink of death. His hands and feet were numb. His brain was numb. A trill, he had nowhere near the strength and stamina of his half vulcan / half romulan lover. He could see the red flash of phaser fire reflected in the ceiling of the transporter room. Weather control satellites were not large and this room had several other functions – cargo bay, waste reclamation (bathroom), sonic shower, oxygen reprocessing. A large number of tropical plants in this room were helpful to the satellite’s lungs.  
Rumor could hear the screaming. The trill soldiers’ screams were high pitched and short lived. Elaine’s scream was more primal – a non-stop throaty howl growing more distant as she moved through the satellite toward the control center. He could tell that she was wounded and needed his help, but he could not stand up – the room was spinning far too viciously for that. 

So he crawled. 

Rumor crawled out of the transporter room into the hallway. A dead trill, his head nearly ripped off, was lying in a pool of his own blood. Trill blood. Red. But there was a trail of green blood as well. Far too much of it.   
He still could not stand, and there was no way to crawl around the pooling blood or the nearly decapitated corpse, so he had to crawl over it and through the blood. He wasn’t certain when he had begun vomiting, but there was too much of it in this hallway to all be his. Some of it had to be Elaine’s. He could hear her now, howling in pain. No one else was making any noise.   
Rumor stopped several times to wipe his hands on the walls, his clothes, the clothing of another trill who had been nearly cut in half by a phaser, but there was no way Rumor could get his hands clean. His hands were too slick for him to crawl very quickly – even if his stomach would allow that. It took forever for him to crawl 20 meters from the transporter/cargo bay and up four steps into the control room.   
Three trill soldiers were dead in this room from extensive phaser burns. Elaine had suffered extensive burns and was laying against the wall, a phaser dropped from her hands. She was bleeding profusely from several wounds. Rumor crawled to her, astonished she had managed to survive being wounded so extensively. He brought her into his arms, trying to keep her warm. He looked into her eyes and whispered, “Don’t go. Stay here with me,” as he felt the life ebbing from her. Her mouth moved as if to say something. Her eyes became unfocused and the tension drained from her body.

24.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Elaine Norman  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Vulcan, Romulan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: N/A  
> Introduced: Episode 24.2  
> Age when introduced: 49  
> Role: Security Analyst, Vulcan Science Academy
> 
> Character: Rumor Boel  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Trill  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Regnar, Trillus Prime  
> Introduced: Episode 24.2  
> Age when introduced: 36  
> Role: Trillus Prime Climatologist, Vulcan Science Academy


	69. Episode 24.3 - A Trillian Problem: The Temple at Aiden on Saketh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Meanwhile, deep in the Romulan Star Empire, on the doomed world of Saketh, a ferocious new religion takes hold among the hemra - a people who are in appearance nearly indistinguishable from humans.
> 
>  _The hissing sludge reacted to the rain by becoming harder than rock, smoother than glass, preserving the features of slaves and slavers alike._   
> _Slaves freed in an instant from a lifetime of servitude._  
>  _Slavers trapped forever next to their emancipated victims..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I know I have a ping pong style of story telling, but I promise all these disparate story lines will eventually come together to form a coherent whole.
> 
> Also, since it will be a few scenes before I get back to Rumor Boel in the weather control satellite, I should tell you that Elaine Norman is not dead. She just lost consciousness for a while so her body could recover...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 3: The Temple at Aiden on Saketh

24.3  
The Temple at Aiden on Saketh

Deep inside the Romulan Star Empire, on the planet Saketh, the hemra slave, Ru’us, had received the instructions in his dreams. He knew exactly where the temple should be built, what materials to use, what it should look like.   
One romulan slave-master after another had prohibited this construction project only to die in his or her sleep before the next morning.  
A platoon of romulan soldiers had destroyed the temple. All of them died that night in their sleep.  
More and more of the villagers of Aiden, the hemra (outwardly indistinguishable from humans), were having the dreams now and, despite official resistance from their romulan slave-masters, the temple rapidly grew.  
When the romulans came in force, Ru’us had been warned and had hidden his family. The romulans slew nearly a hundred villagers to make their point. And died themselves moments later on the spot – they just fell asleep and died. As instructed, Ru’us beheaded all of the dead and placed their heads on spears and burned the bodies in a pit in front of the ruins of the temple the romulans had again destroyed. 

Aiden was the second largest village in the province. Word had spread about the bonfire and the hemra showed up in the hundreds, then the thousands. They had all had the dreams now – each one bringing a very specific sacrifice – sand from a certain area – sap from trees that grew more than 200 kilometers to the south – and lots and lots of the black salts from the flatlands. They poured their sacrifices into the pit in front of the temple in the specific order Ru’us instructed, tumbling burning bodies into the sludge until the black sludge began boiling – hissing – giving off foul gasses that killed anyone who breathed them in.  
The sludge bubbled up out of the pit and flowed across the ground, finding the spears with heads atop them – spears that had been soaked in alcohol. The sludge quickly climbed the spears, forming thick spires around them and crystalizing around the heads atop them, freezing their features in a thin black film. A sudden, rainstorm, lasting only a minute and covering less than a few hundred meters around the monument cooled the hissing sludge. 

The hissing sludge reacted to the rain by becoming harder than rock, smoother than glass, preserving the features of slaves and slavers alike.   
Slaves freed in an instant from a lifetime of servitude.   
Slavers trapped forever next to their emancipated victims.

Ru’us knew the romulans would destroy this monument too. But he would build it again in other places. He hated to leave his family behind, but a new life stretched out for him. A lifetime to free his people. He took no tools. He took no extra clothing – only the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet. The goddess would provide the rest. Food. Clothes. Shelter. Workers. Dreams. 

And, most importantly, blood sacrifices… Animals. Romulans. Hemra. Warriors. Slaves. Children. Babies. Lots of blood sacrifices…

24.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Ru'us  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Hemra  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Aiden, Saketh  
> Introduced: Episode 24.3  
> Age when introduced: 41  
> Role: 1st High Priest, Cult of Shiva


	70. Episode 24.4 - A Trillian Problem: A Good Snooze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The avatar for Minerva, the lavardorn (space fish), arrives. She is in more than a little distress as she is in the process of integrating several personalities into her own. And she's only a teenager...
> 
> _“Oh great simpering space monkeys!” said Wesley Crusher. “That was the most delicious sleep I have had in...” He shook his head, then doodled with his finger as if doing math on a chalkboard. “Borrow the one… carry the four…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> It's time for a little merriment with an aging Wesley Crusher, his friend the traveler (who now goes by the name Bob) and the former EMH from the U.S.S. Voyager, commonly known as "The Doctor" who has taken on the name Wesley gave him - Dr. Prometheus. But Wes and Bob aren't just clowning around. They can sense that the avatar is in distress and their clowning gives her something to hold on to...

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 4: A Good Snooze

24.4  
A Good Snooze

Wesley (Old Man Crusher) and alien Bob were crashed out on the couch. Alien Bob snored quietly. Old Man Crusher snored like a herd of elephants on a rampage. Doctor Prometheus was sitting primly on one end of the couch, arms folded, legs crossed, eyes closed, his chin on his chest. While the hologram did not actually breathe, his chest and chin rose and fell regularly as if he were breathing deeply. To all appearances, he too, was sound asleep.  
Gradually, a blue haze coalesced into the figure of a very slight woman, seated on the other end of the couch. The Doctor, somehow sensing her presence, looked up. 

The avatar’s abilities had evolved dramatically over nearly 400 years since she had initially encountered Dr. Carrera. While her clothing, skin and hair were still blue, she was now able to use several different shades of blue to create a very lifelike appearance. Lines of spots (dark blue ones) formed trails along her thin neck and tiny ankles. Her long hair was such a dark blue it almost appeared to be black. She and Doctor Prometheus looked at each other. They spared a shared glance at the slumbering elderly travelers. Seated at opposite ends of the couch, they were not on opposite sides of the room, but opposite sides of the viewer, through which a growing Milky Way Galaxy could be seen.  
The girl lifted her right hand and her arm gradually stretched – a meter, two meters, three, traversing half the distance between herself and the Doctor. The Doctor raised his left hand and extended his arm slowly, allowing it to stretch – a meter, two meters, three… until his fingers touched hers.   
The Doctor did not understand how, but with this touch, understanding about this girl, who and where she was, as well as her identity with the formless blue avatar for this creature they were currently riding inside flooded into his mind. The blue entity had lived in and as part of six women since its inception nearly 400 years ago. Was born with them. Died with them. This girl was the seventh incarnation of the avatar – at once two separate entities and yet one harboring the memories of all, but there was far more. The girl herself was a composite of a young girl and another timeless entity. And yet another ancient mind was in the process joining with her – five distinct entities becoming one. By far the youngest of these – just a teenage girl – was terrified – afraid of losing herself in the nexus of these ancient and powerful personalities.

“Don’t lose yourself in all this,” the Doctor found himself saying very softly. “Don’t forget to be a child.”  
Somehow, his words seemed to comfort the strange creature. And he was not the only one providing emotional support. The lavardorn itself – the space whale in which they were traveling – was also in contact with its avatar – something stronger than telepathy – supporting the girl as she was buffeted by powerful, ancient, competing personalities.

This struggle was suddenly interrupted… Old Man Crusher stood up and stretched loudly. Alien Bob was also making some noises as he sat up, then rocked himself into a standing position.  
“Oh great simpering space monkeys!” said Wesley Crusher. “That was the most delicious sleep I have had in...” He shook his head, then doodled with his finger as if doing math on a chalkboard. “Borrow the one… carry the four… hundreds of years! I haven’t woken up feeling so refreshed since my hair was brown! It makes me want to go back to sleep just so I can wake up all over again!” He bent over and managed to touch the fingers of his right hand to his left toes with an unfit grunt and some vague popping. He straightened back up slowly and carefully. “Oh… My back popped… I think it was a good pop…” He burrowed his fists into his back and stretched again. “I hope that was a good pop…”  
Alien Bob was laughing quietly. “Oh I have to agree with you. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed waking from a good sleep so much. It almost makes me feel young again.” He indulged in a slow and rather loud yawn and only mid-yawn noticed the presence of the blue avatar. “Well, hi th…” He tried to greet her only to be interrupted as a far more powerful yawn pushed its way through him.  
The avatar was giggling at her two new but elderly companions.  
Wesley yawned cavernously. “Enough with the yawning, Bob, it’s catching…” He attempted a very tenuous version of a runner’s stretch, followed by a number of “Ow” noises, then bent over and massaged his own hamstrings.  
“Me?” yawned alien Bob. “You’re the one who started it with all this talk of delicious sleep…” Bob stretched again as another yawn overtook him.  
Suddenly they both sat down.   
“And that’s enough exercise for the day,” Wesley said.  
Alien Bob took a deep breath. Nodded his head. “Yep.” Exhaled.

“Great,” muttered the Doctor. “I’m off to save the galaxy with an intergalactic space fish, a primary color with multiple personality disorder and a geriatric comedy duo…”

24.4


	71. Episode 24.5 - A Trillian Problem: The Dream Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Johnny Canada has mastered the use of Dream Com Tech - even though he doesn't know what it is or where it is... He uses dream com to bring Captain Kenny Dolphin and Federation President-Elect Emory Ivonovic together for a secret conference...  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I may be a bit heavy handed with the theme about nostalgia. I consider it a very dangerous impulse... Perhaps among the most dangerous of our human frailties  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 5: Dream Team

24.5  
Dream Team

Captain Kenneth Dolphin had been busy. He had never thought about just how much work his predecessor, Justice Minerva Irons, was doing while holed up in her office. He had envisioned that captaining a starship involved sitting in the captain’s chair on the bridge issuing orders, but the reality was that he rarely sat there. That duty was usually divided among his half-bolian first officer, Lt. Cmdr. Napoleon Boles, his long trusted 2nd officer, Lt. Cmdr. Gaia Gamor and her new Assistant Director of Flight Operations, 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks – a twitchy, nervous woman with an encyclopedic knowledge of strategic and tactical space combat.  
The captain was grateful that Gamor could generally handle the crew and keep the ship running efficiently. Boles – who was very far from a people person – was managing to keep up with the people side of the U.S.S. Hunter’s daily operations and was only now learning just how much the late David Pepper had relied on Hunter for insights into the personalities of the crew. Boles spent more time talking with the ship’s elderly-appearing holographic avatar than to anyone else on the ship – even his captain.

Captain Dolphin leaned back in the chair in his office, closed his eyes and indulged in a rare moment of nostalgia – thinking back to a time when he had walked among mythic creatures. Once, long ago, when the universe was young, Dolphin had been nothing more than a man who could fly – the leader of a wing of pilots, serving in the command of a wise and ancient goddess, a heroic giant and a lovely, mysterious vampire whom he had occasionally fed with his own blood. But the lovely vampire had mysteriously vanished, the heroic giant was slain and the goddess of wisdom fallen into darkness..

The universe had grown old. Its magical youth was spent.

The time for ancient gods and giants and mythic creatures had passed. 

And the arduous work of heroes had landed heavily upon the shoulders of mere mortals.

Dolphin wasn’t certain when his reverie had merged into lucid dreaming, but suddenly he was back with Governor Emory Ivonovic in the recording studio for Subspace Radio Ivonovic. Only it wasn’t Governor Ivonovic – a man with far more weight on his shoulders sat in the chair to Dolphin’s right – Federation President-Elect Emory Ivonovic. Another chair had been added to the far right – in which sat the Trantor Police Department Intelligence Division’s Deputy Director for Offworld Activities, Johnny Canada.

“I’m sorry to call you together this way,” Johnny said. “I am far from certain this is a secure channel, but it is the only mechanism the three of us have to communicate real-time across the distances that separate us. I am currently very far from Earth at an undisclosed location on an undisclosed assignment…”  
“I asked for this meeting, Kenny,” said Ivonovic. “I know you are only a few hours out from dealing with the disaster at Trillus Prime, but I need your advice both as a strategist and an ethicist. Yours too, Johnny. Maria and I are at loggerheads about how to respond to the Venus Incident and considering that I've heard rumors that our most powerful ally, the andorian emperor, has been quietly beheading a large number of andorian prisoners behind the scenes, there really aren’t a lot of people I can turn to for advice right now.”  
“Wait,” said Dolphin, “Okay… let me catch up here… this is not a dream? This is real?”  
“It is a dream, Kenny,” Johnny replied. “But yes, it’s real. Dreamcomm technology. Please try to keep up.”  
“How…” Dolphin started.  
“Oh please, even if I could explain it…” Johnny retorted, rolling his eyes.  
“Stay focused, please,” said Ivonovic. “Venus?”  
“First Minerva, now Venus,” Dolphin groused. “All the gods are falling. Better keep an eye on Jupiter and Mars.”  
“What?” Ivonovic asked.  
“Sorry, I’m still catching up here,” Dolphin apologized. “Dream lag. Yes, I saw the Venus First ultimatum. What does President Rodriguez want to do?”  
“She’s terrified of another river filled with dead children,” said Ivonovic. “She wants to give them Venus and be done with it.”  
“Can’t do that,” said Dolphin at almost the same moment that Johnny said, “Not good.”  
“I want to tell them that as soon as they’re settled in nice and cozy there on Venus, we’re going to obliterate the planet and let them see how the Venusians felt.” Ivonovic was nearly shaking with rage. He calmed himself deliberately. “But that’s probably a little over the top…”  
“Can’t do that either,” said Dolphin. “Ethically, Venus is a grave. It is sacred ground. It must not be defiled by the murderers of its previous inhabitants. Better that Venus be left barren and dead. At least for now. Venus should be off limits to all for at least double the lifetime of the longest lived human child born today. Considering that child may be part vulcan with a potential lifetime of 200 years, make that a 400 year moratorium.”  
Johnny Canada raised his eyebrows. “I would recommend a different strategic approach, but I’m curious, Doctor Dolphin… What is the reasoning behind your approach?”

“This is the greatest crime in the history of the Federation. In all of recorded history to my knowledge. The deliberate slaughter not of a species, but of an entire unique biosphere teaming with lifeforms beyond imagination. Genocide is not a sufficient word. Ecocide – the destruction of an entire living, thriving environment,” said Dolphin. He took a deep breath. “After the horrors of the 2nd and 3rd World Wars, humanity was faced with ethical questions arising from the systematic torture and genocide of humans and other animals in medical experiments. If the results of those experiments could save millions of lives, were we not duty bound to accept those results into science for the betterment of mankind?”  
“The consequentialist answer to that question is that no one in living memory of those events could profit from these unspeakable crimes,” Dolphin continued. “And so the science was preserved, but a moratorium was placed on the research so that the criminals and their descendants could not profit from their atrocities. By the time the moratorium was lifted, the answers to those questions had been found in other ways and in many cases it was revealed that the answers produced by the criminal activity were the fruit of the poison tree – the answers were misleading and would not have been of the benefit that many imagined. They would have set medicine and other sciences back rather than advancing them.”  
“With the Venusian Massacre – ecocide is just too pleasant a word – the same consequentialist principle applies. The criminals and their heirs cannot be allowed to profit from their crime. Not even the vicarious profit of having opened a new environment for their own species even if that new soil is sewn and reaped by their enemies. Venus must remain a dead world," Dolphin concluded. "But it is only up to us to speak for our generation and the next, not for all of humankind for all time.”

“And my people occasionally wonder why I make it a point that we correspond at least weekly,” said Ivonovic. He laughed. “You have lightened my heart, Kenny. I’ve been carrying Venus around like a stone and it feels as though you just lifted it off of my shoulders. Johnny, what was your answer?”

“A crass, covert operations answer,” Johnny Canada replied. “And a strategy I think you can still use even while officially taking the high road with Kenny’s moratorium…”  
“How do you compromise a moratorium with a covert operation?” Ivonovic asked.  
“Well, the only stroke of luck in all of this is that it happened in January,” Johnny started.   
“It’s September, Johnny,” Ivonovic retorted.  
“Figuratively speaking, it’s January and you and Maria Rodriguez are Janus – the god with two faces. So take the opportunity to speak out of both of them… First, you can buy yourselves some time by putting out a statement that due to the extraordinary nature and implications of the Venus Incident, you are carefully weighing your response. Then you make an official statement about the moratorium while at the same time Maria’s office quietly lets out that Star Fleet will not be patrolling Venus. You will say nothing to contradict this.”  
“This strategy should allow two things to happen,” Johnny continued. “It should draw Venus First into the open, making them a good target for infiltration. Pass laws against landing and settling on Venus, but mumble when it comes to talk of how to enforce those laws. If they think the Federation is deliberately turning a blind eye they may hold off on their terrorist threats while they try to settle Venus. We can then use that to drive a wedge between Venus First and Earth First – there is no way all those millions of Earth Firsters would have agreed to give up on a human-only Earth. Or the rest of the colonies. Start rumors that Venus Firsters are turning Earth Firsters in, make a bunch of high profile arrests and set the two organizations at each other’s throats.”  
“Once we have agents in position, they can play on that internecine warfare to convince each group to reach out to the Federation to help roll the other group up,” Canada concluded.

“Okay, that is starting to sound something like a plan,” Ivonovic mused. “Kenny, can you draft a Venus Moratorium address?”  
“How soon do you need it?” Dolphin asked.  
“Five hours.”  
“That gives me less than three hours to write the most momentous public address in the past 200 years – since it will take almost two hours for you to receive the transmission,” Dolphin objected.  
“Nothing fancy, Kenny," said Ivonovic. "Just write down what you said a few minutes ago and you’re pretty much already there.”  
“Johnny, does this dream-tech communicator auto-transcribe?” asked Dolphin.  
“It might,” Canada replied. “But I have no idea how to operate it…”  
“I’ll draft it for you, Emory,” Dolphin said. “I won’t promise that it will be the most eloquent thing ever, but I have a fair idea what needs to be said.”  
“The more plain-spoken, the better,” Ivonovic responded. “I’ll definitely owe you for this…”  
Dolphin nodded his head emphatically: “Yes. You will.”

24.6


	72. Episode 24.6 - A Trillian Problem: The War of Fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ,  
> Rumor Boel has taken over the Vulcan Science Academy's primary weather control satellite for Trillus Prime. And the weather on Trillus Prime is about to get real...
> 
>  _The infuriating thing about using vulcan weather control satellites was… they came with vulcan weather controllers. But the vulcans were willing to take on a certain number of local climatologists and Rumor was one of the lucky ones – which meant that he was one of the best Trillus Prime had to offer. His fingers danced over the master control panel. He was brewing up a storm…_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I made note of my felonious great grand-uncle Norman Baker in a previous scene. I named Elaine Norman after her father, whom I named after Norman Baker..  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 6: The War of Fog

24.6  
The War of Fog

  
Rumor Boel had a lover to avenge and a wife and children to protect. He had no idea where Jeene and the children were. But Elaine Norman was lying in a pool of her own blood only a few meters behind him. Rumor was a climatologist and as such had taken a position with the Vulcan Science Academy.   
Nearly every planet in the Federation made use of vulcan weather control satellites. The vulcans weren’t the only ones who built such satellites – but theirs were by far the best. Ferengi weather control satellites tended to cause more fog and incessant rain than most environments called for. Cardassian weather control satellites were said to cause deserts. Romulan weather control satellites were reputedly as good as their vulcan counterparts, but almost no one in the Federation had ever seen one. The klingons had switched to vulcan weather control satellites centuries ago.  
The infuriating thing about using vulcan weather control satellites was… they came with vulcan weather controllers. But the vulcans were willing to take on a certain number of local climatologists and Rumor was one of the lucky ones – which meant that he was one of the best Trillus Prime had to offer. His fingers danced over the master control panel. He was brewing up a storm…

“What do you think you’re doing?” came a familiar voice from behind him.  
Rumor whirled, his eyes widening with wonder. “Elaine???”  
“You don’t think a half-dozen phaser burns is enough to put me down, do you?” Elaine asked. She had evidently found a first aid kit and had patched a few of her more egregious wounds. She found a chair near the master control panel and slumped into it.  
“I… But… You…” Rumor stuttered.  
“Answer my question, Rumor, what do you think you’re doing?”  
“Building a tornado to take out General Mulaax’s main force,” Rumor replied.  
“This system will let you design the perfect storm, but it will never enact it,” Elaine replied. “Vulcan Science Academy satellites cannot be weaponized.”  
“Find me a way around the system lockout, then,” said Rumor. “You’re the systems security analyst…”  
“I couldn’t even hard-wire one if I tried,” Elaine responded. “The system would self-destruct before allowing itself to be weaponized.”  
Rumor slammed his fists on the arms of the control station chair. “There has to be something I can do…”  
“There is,” said Elaine. “The fugitive’s best friend.” She sat at the security station, next to the command station and began entering commands.  
Rumor smiled. “Sounds like you’re about to tell me another story about your father…”  
Elaine smiled too. “My dad, Norman Baker, was a grifter. We had to make a lot of last minute escapes. He paid more attention to the weather schedule than a farmer. I could tell he was getting ready to make his move – after which we would have to run – when the humidity was rising and the temperature was dropping. Then we’d get the fugitive’s best friend – fog. It made it easier for us to escape. Especially since we had our escape routes well planned out.”  
“Will this system allow us to make it foggy?” Rumor asked. “Or will it see fog as a weapon?”  
“Vulcan climatologists think of severe storm events as evidence of weaponizing these systems,” Elaine replied. “But fog is beneficial for small animals, especially amphibians and also for ferns and other plants. More importantly, the Vulcan Science Academy approves the use of inversion fogs to help clean the lower atmosphere from certain types of chemical and radiation contamination.”  
“Fog will make it really difficult for General Mulaax to run ground and air operations,” Rumor mused.  
“And at the same time, it will give people on the run a better chance of escaping,” Elaine added. “All we have to do is trick the computer into believing a Level 4 radiation event has occurred… well… pretty much planet-wide.”  
“As soon as Mulaax and his people figure out that the fog is being created by the satellites, they will come up here in force and re-take them,” said Rumor.  
“Which is why it has to be a Level 4 event…” Elaine finished entering commands. “There, I think I have it believing it is reading a Level 4 radiation event. Now you should be able to model a recurring series of inversion and ground fogs. Once you start the program, if we can hold them off for two hours, the cycle will become self-stoking. I’m going to go do some nasty things to the transporter which should help keep them out of here for a while. Once you get the cycle up and running, you will need to authorize the self-destruct sequence for the entire satellite chain. I will be in the transporter room. Let me know when you initialize self-destruct and I’ll beam us down to the planet.”  
“I don’t have the kind of clearance needed to authorize self-destruct,” Rumor objected.  
“Hello… Systems Security Analyst Norman here…” Elaine teased. “You do have that authority. I just gave it to you…” She kissed him, then slowly made her way to the back of the room, then turned. “Where did you send your wife and children?”  
“The Sanctuary of the Symbionts,” Rumor replied.  
“I will program the system to set us down as close to the sanctuary as their shielding will allow…”

24.6


	73. Episode 24.7 - A Trillian Problem: Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> General Mulaax has his troops arrayed and has laid siege to the Sanctuary of the Symbionts...
> 
>  _“General Mulaax, this is Captain Kenneth Dolphin, Star Fleet Office of the Judge Advocate General. You have artillery and assault forces located within three kilometers of a category one cultural site in violation of the Cultural Treasures Clause of the Federation Charter, Section 19. You will remove your forces to a distance of no less than ten kilometers. You have fifteen standard minutes..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> It makes sense to me in the Star Trek universe that ground forces would still make use of artillery - to lob charges into the air. Beam weapons are line-of-sight. But ground forces will want to hit things they do not have a line-of-sight for - things over the horizon or behind a hill...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 7: Sanctuary

24.7  
Sanctuary

In your average military coup, the critical first control targets are satellite command and control and media facilities. On Trillus Prime there was another critical target – the Symbiont Sanctuary. General Hialal Mulaax was himself a joined trill – he carried the ancient and often maligned Mulaax symbiont. Mulaax had gotten previous hosts into trouble, but never the sort that would disqualify the nefarious symbiont from being joined with another host. Mulaax was nearly a thousand years old and had been joined with at least a dozen trills, enriching each new host with the memories of all the previous hosts.  
Given the history of Mulaax, the sanctuary priesthood felt that a disciplined young soldier would be a good fit. As often happened with joined trills, Hialal benefitted tremendously from the wealth of experience and force of personality the slug in his dermal pouch brought to him – as well as the improvements in healing and reaction speed. Hialal Mulaax climbed the ranks and gained popularity, rocketing to the top of the military hierarchy and garnering a loyal following. Mulaax had no intention of returning to the sanctuary to be controlled by the priests and allow them to select the next host. The priesthood and the other symbionts – especially the ancient ones – were a great threat to his plans. Especially now after General Mulaax had murdered not only approximately 7,000 trills but more than 100 symbionts. There was no turning back now.

There were a number of symbionts allied with Mulaax, but symbionts knew one another like humanoid trills never could. They had spent ages in the sanctuary pool in deep telepathic contact. It was how Mulaax had built a network of allies. It was also the reason, once he had exposed his intentions, that none of his allies could remain in the sanctuary – except one – an ancient who had not been joined to a trill in hundreds of years…

Very little of the sanctuary protruded above ground and the entire facility was shielded. The general’s forces had the facility surrounded. All they needed to do was wait for Traxx, Mulaax’s co-conspirator still inside the sanctuary pool, to take a body – preferably a young one who could not resist the joining – and take down the facility’s shields from the inside.

Then the fog rolled in. It was an inversion fog, so it came down from above, forcing the general to ground his air support. The fog came down, then rolled along the ground – thick – heavy – obscuring everything. 

A sudden spray of rapid, highly accurate, needle-thin phaser fire came down through the clouds, burning out the targeting and fuel control computers of each of the general’s 200 interceptors, rendering them useless. Grounded by fog and parked in the open, these attack craft were sitting targets for a ship with adequate sensors operating from orbit. It was the last thing Mulaax expected. He was in his field command center – a tent pitched on a hillside facing away from the sanctuary. Fog was rolling in under the edges of the tent and obscuring the grass beneath his feet. The fog obscured his feet.  
Mulaax pounded on a field table, making the monitor on the table bounce. A trill officer, evidently onboard a ship, was displayed on the monitor. “Lieutenant Jiabis, Star Fleet is in orbit! Why is Star Fleet in orbit?”  
“I’m not certain whether it was Star Fleet or not. About five minutes ago an andorian freighter arrived on schedule and entered the atmosphere for landing. We picked up some odd radio traffic from it and strange telemetry when it entered the cloud layer. We were just starting to analyze when these little black ships - six of them – just came out of warp, fired on your position and went back to warp.”  
“Why weren’t they stopped by the planetary defense network?” raged the general. “The moment they targeted their phasers, the defense satellites should have fired on them!”  
“The defense grid is offline,” the lieutenant replied. “It went down as soon as that andorian freighter came out of warp…”  
“Andorians! We purchased the planetary defense satellites from the andorians! It’s an andorian system! I want those little black ships – find them and get them lieutenant…”   
The lieutenant’s image vanished from the viewer, replaced by a human with thick, curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes wearing a black uniform relieved only by thin red piping around the collar and four platinum pips on the left side of his collar. 

“General Mulaax, this is Captain Kenneth Dolphin, Star Fleet Office of the Judge Advocate General. You have artillery and assault forces located within three kilometers of a category one cultural site in violation of the Cultural Treasures Clause of the Federation Charter, Section 19. You will remove your forces to a distance of no less than ten kilometers. You have fifteen standard minutes to initiate retreat and your forces must be outside of the ten kilometer perimeter within 90 standard minutes or, per Section 4 of the Federation Tribunal Charter, I will remove your forces for you.”  
“You have no…” Mulaax started...  
“This is not a discussion, General. End transmission.” 

Dolphin’s image vanished from the monitor, to be replaced by the lieutenant.   
Mulaax was cool and curious. “How did he break in on this channel?”  
“That came from in atmosphere,” the lieutenant responded. “He overloaded the channel. He’s right in front of you. If he’s not in the sanctuary, he’s right on top of it.”  
One of Mulaax’s officers said, “That was Kenneth Dolphin? He must have just made captain. He was a lieutenant only two years ago. He’s got a reputation. Aggressive.”  
Mulaax scratched his beard. “The aggressive general would attack. That’s what this Captain Dolphin wants. He has a trick up his sleeve – probably plans to have his little ships show up again and attack from orbit as soon as our forces are on the move. The cautious general would stay put and call his bluff - he couldn’t have enough assets to push us back one kilometer, much less seven.”  
“I’ve heard you develop this sort of analysis before,” replied the colonial. “You are neither aggressive nor cautious. What would the wise general do?”  
“Use what Dolphin doesn’t have. To even maintain the illusion that he can push us back, he can’t lock his forces down behind the sanctuary’s shields. He can’t have beamed any heavy weaponry down there. What does your intelligence say he has?”  
The colonial replied, “I have been told there are about 800 Star Fleet personnel armed primarily with phaser rifles guarding the sanctuary.”  
“So he has a few black uniforms holding rifles standing outside the sanctuary’s shield wall," General Mulaax mused. "Maybe a few mortars. We have artillery. Let’s use it. Put him between the hammer and the anvil…”

24.7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Lieutenant Jiabis  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Trill  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Numinor, Cun Ling  
> Introduced: Episode 24.7  
> Age when introduced: 22  
> Role: Trillian Master Forces Officer
> 
> Character: Colonial Killaul  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Trill  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Regnar, Trillus Prime  
> Introduced: Episode 24.7  
> Age when introduced: 46  
> Role: Trillian Master Forces Officer


	74. Episode 24.8 - A Trillian Problem: Cinqronicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Jet Boel, the teenage daughter of Rumor and Jeene Boel, encounters a symbiont... an ancient and powerful symbiont...
> 
> _She was a skinny teenage girl and her dermal pouch was not yet fully formed. The Traxx symbiont was ancient and large. Jet reached down into the pool with one hand and allowed the giant slug-like creature to climb up her arm..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING - This scene may be a little disturbing. Take a breath or two before diving in.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 8: Cinqronicity

_**CONTENT WARNING** \- This is an intense chapter. Prepare yourself. Read at your discretion._

_A summary is provided below in case you prefer to scroll down and avoid what could be a very disturbing chapter._

_The summary is below this chapter._

24.8  
Cinqronicity

Jet had always been aware that she was more than a trill - and that it had something to do with her bajoran heritage. The visions had started when she was eight, which was also when the lucid dreaming had begun. It had taken nearly a year for her to sort out that these experiences were from two different sources. She was not just Jet Boel. She was the lavardorn avatar and with her hazy blue alter-ego came the memories of the avatar’s six previous incarnations. Jet’s parents and everyone who knew her thought of her as unusually wise. It was a wisdom that came from having access to six lifetimes of memory from six entirely disparate cultures.

Jet was in a hidden part of the sanctuary that un-joined trills rarely visited. Brought there by an ancient willpower trying to overpower her. Instead of resisting, she accepted her situation openly. Standing on a narrow ledge with the water of the sanctuary pool lapping at her feet, she disrobed, removing her wet clothes. They were completely soaked. She did not bother to wring her hair but quickly brushed it back out of her way.   
She was a skinny teenage girl and her dermal pouch was not yet fully formed. The Traxx symbiont was ancient and large. Jet reached down into the pool with one hand and allowed the giant slug-like creature to climb up her arm. It was already a powerful telepathic presence in her mind and it had not yet directly connected with her neural network. She laid down on her back, allowing it to crawl along her legs, then up over her arms, leaving a trail of thick mucus.   
Carefully, painfully, she opened her dermal pouch for the first time. She had reached the age of fertility and her pouch was developed enough to support a fetus, but it was nowhere near large enough to support a fully grown symbiont. But Traxx had only ever taken extremely young hosts - the Traxx symbiont had been banned long ago by the priests from joining with hosts largely for this reason. 

Most symbionts honored and loved their hosts, allowing the host personality to help them grow and change even as the lifetimes of memories from other hosts enriched the life of each new host. But Traxx was one of the ancient ones – far, far older than the priesthood. Traxx was a wild symbiont and had joined trills in the dawn of time by capturing them and suppressing their native personalities. They were nothing more than flesh sacks to be used and cast aside when convenient.

Jet howled in anguish as Traxx wormed its way into her dermal pouch. But at least she was not resisting or this would have been far more painful for her. As the pouch ripped open to allow the massive, ancient slug to enter her body, it was able to use its mucous to ease the pain and speed healing of her wounds. Most joinings took only minutes for fully grown trill and once joined, the symbionts were rarely visible. The joining of Jet and Traxx took agonizing hours and once Traxx was secured inside Jet’s immature pouch, its presence was obvious – as if the teenage girl had suddenly become 3 months pregnant – or in trill biology – was carrying an infant ready to leave the pouch.   
It was only when the joining was complete that Traxx became aware it had been duped. It was not in possession of Jet’s body in the way it had always taken complete control of its previous hosts. For the first time in a lifetime spanning well over two thousand years, Traxx was about to learn what a true joining was like – a melding of its native personality, its memories from previous hosts with a powerful, fully realized new host. For the first time in history, a symbiont was joining with a trill who was already joined in another symbiotic relationship – as Minerva’s avatar.

Jet Traxx looked up as a joined entity for the first time. She did not bother wringing water from her clothing. It was warm enough in the water, so there was no point in putting her clothing back on – only her underwear to protect her from any curious fetal symbionts. Her teenage modesty was, for the moment, set aside. She could move more quickly through the water without clothes and there would be something to wear where she was going. Her clothing was worn out anyway. 

Jet waded through the murky, glowing water toward the school and hospital at the other end of the sanctuary – the trill end. The part of the sanctuary controlled by the priests and sanctuary bureaucrats. She could sense another presence walking beside her – a presence she had sensed in heated moments throughout her young life – something not entirely separate from her, but entirely separate from her alter-ego as the avatar. For the first time, this presence took visible form – the form of her father’s friend, Elaine Norman – but it was clearly not her. She was evidently not a physical presence – even though she was walking next to Jet, the thing that looked like Elaine was not disturbing the water and in the next moment, she was gone. Jet could feel Traxx informing her: that was real – not corporeal – but real…

24.8

**_Star Trek Hunter  
_ ** _Episode 24:_ _A Trillian Problem  
_ _Scene 8 - author’s summary:_ _Cinqronicity  
  
_

_24.8 - author’s summary  
_ _Cinqronicity_

_I have been reminded by a few readers that I am, actually, more of a writer of horror than of science fiction… In summary, the ancient trill symbiont, Traxx, forces a joining with Jet Boel, the adolescent daughter of Rumor and Jeene Boel.   
_ _But Jet is not what Traxx expected. Her mother is half bajoran and Jet is a child of the prophets. She is also the 7th incarnation of the lavardorn avatar, which gives her access to the lifetime memories of the 6 women who preceded her in that role in addition to having part of the consciousness of one of the wormhole aliens, known by the bajorans as the prophets. It is no accident she was placed in Traxx’s path. It was by design of the prophets.  
_ _In short, Traxx doesn’t get to use her as a meat puppet (the way this ancient symbiont used all previous trill hosts) and is forced into a true joining for the first time in a lifetime spanning well over 2,000 years._

_24.8_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Traxx  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Symbiont  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Regnar, Trillus Prime  
> Introduced: Episode 24.8  
> Age when introduced: 1,202  
> Role: Wild Symbiont


	75. Episode 24.9 - A Trillian Problem: The Hammer and the Anvil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> General Mulaax unleashes an artillery assault on the Sanctuary of the Symbionts. It's a mistake...
> 
> _General Mulaax had just given the order for the artillery units to open fire when a young lieutenant was brought to him to report on the weather. Colonial Killaul spoke up quickly. “General, this is Star Fleet’s fog…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Dr. Leonarda Marks and T'Lon have studied Mulaax - who has been a general in more than one lifetime. They have a fair idea what he is likely to do..  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 9: The Hammer and the Anvil

24.9  
The Hammer and the Anvil

The fog had been roiling for a half-hour before one of General Mulaax’s lieutenants finished tracking down first the weather schedule, then the detail assigned to the weather master control satellite. Only after failing to raise the satellite control team did she raise the issue with her captain, who took it to another superior officer. About the time that General Mulaax was asking where all the fog was coming from, the answer arrived in his tent – the fog was not scheduled and the boarding party for the main weather control satellite was not responding. 

The Trillian Master Force’s artillery had already dialed in all the calculations for optimal charges to breach the sanctuary’s shielding, so the fog was not of concern to the captains of the artillery units. Even though artillery launched charges moved low and slow, artillery continued to present an advantage on the battlefield because the guns did not require line-of-sight to hit their targets (unlike phasers and plasma cannon.) And artillery could maintain barrages much longer at a much lower resource and logistics cost than rocket systems.

General Mulaax had just given the order for the artillery units to open fire when a young lieutenant was brought to him to report on the weather. Colonial Killaul spoke up quickly. “General, this is Star Fleet’s fog…”  
“They can see us and we can’t see them!” Mulaax concluded. “Belay the artillery…”  
Just at that moment, the camp shook with the roar of cannon launching explosive charges to counteract the sanctuary’s shielding.  
“Tell them to abandon their guns! Pull those soldiers back!” Mulaax ordered.   
It was too late. From the clouds just above the camp, phaser cannon designed for long range space combat painted each active cannon emplacement, easily punching through the gunners shielding and causing the guns and their munitions to explode, shredding the soldiers in their gun emplacements and causing secondary explosions in other parts of the Trillian Master Forces lines.

Captain Dolphin’s face immediately appeared on the monitor in General Hialal Mulaax’s tent – turning the device on remotely. “General Mulaax, you are to cease your assault immediately and withdraw. I will give you two hours to reorganize your forces. You may send unarmed personnel back into the protected zone to remove the remains of your casualties. I am sorry for the loss of life. Please do not test my resolve further. You have caused enough death today.” The monitor immediately shut off.  
One of the lieutenants standing nearby said, “How… That monitor was turned off. There is no power coming to it…”  
“They fed power to it remotely,” said Col. Killaul. “General, Star Fleet has demonstrated clear technological superiority. We would still be able to win with a full frontal assault, but Dolphin just demonstrated he is willing to kill trills. Even if we do win, it will be at a terrible cost.”  
“Pull them back,” Mulaax ordered. “Pull all our forces back. How many artillery pieces were destroyed?”   
“We lost 41 guns.” came a report from across the room.  
“Which leaves us more than a hundred,” Mulaax observed. “Pull them back. Pull everything back. Our Captain Dolphin just gave us another weapon. We need to pivot quickly to be able to use it.”  
“He gave us a weapon?” asked Killaul.  
“Star Fleet killed trills. How many of us did they just kill?” Mulaax asked.  
“About 300 - but we have killed far more…” said Killaul.  
“But we’re TRILLS! This is an internal matter!” Mulaax exclaimed. “Star Fleet is supposed to be our ally - and they are prohibited from interfering in our internal affairs! Come on - get us moved. We’re not in the field tonight - we’re in the villages. The next time Dolphin kills trills, he kills civilians…”

24.9


	76. Episode 24.10 - A Trillian Problem: Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Jet Traxx makes her first appearance as a joined trill. But even before joining with Traxx, Jet (part bajoran) has carried a part of one of the prophets with her as well as her alter-ego as the hazy blue avatar for the lavardorn named Minerva...
> 
>  _“I need to talk to Star Fleet. I have information they need to know,” said Jet. She looked around._  
>  _“Wait,” said one of the priests. “We need to examine…”_  
>  _“If I don’t tell Star Fleet what they need to know, General Mulaax will penetrate this facility and you will spend your last few minutes examining your entrails,” Jet said pleasantly. “Oh I just love these new negotiation skills my symbiont has given me..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I had envisioned a larger role for Jet Traxx and may eventually do more with her. It was the prophets who, seeing that she was born as the lavardorn avatar, chose to join with her and alter her paugh to put her in the path of the Traxx symbiont. She has a lot of jobs to accomplish, for the trills, for the bajoran people and eventually for the borg.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 10: Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed…

24.10  
Something Old, Something New, Something Borrowed…

“Find Jeene Boel and her children – bring them here!” shouted one of the trill caretakers. She waded out into the pool of the symbionts as a teenager emerged from the back of the cavern, wading in from the deeper waters. As Jet stepped into the shallower waters, her protruding pouch became visible, to the shock of the caretakers, three of whom waded out into the water to help her.  
More caretakers, teachers, priests and others from the sanctuary crowded in as someone helped the girl into a robe – several gasped and a babel of murmuring began when some caught sight of Jet’s protruding dermal pouch.   
Jeene Boel shoved her way purposefully toward her daughter. A few of the caretakers standing next to Jet tried to hold her back – but soon backed off from the sudden blinding fury of a mother determined to protect her young. She hugged Jet only to let out a howl as she felt her daughter’s protruding belly. Jeene dropped to her knees in front of her daughter and gently placed her hands on Jet’s protruding dermal pouch.   
Jet calmly took her mother’s hands, removed them from her belly, put them together and held them between her hands. “It’s all right mother. I’m strong enough for this. There is so much that you’ve never known about me. Where is Lieutenant Grorher?”  
Jeene gave her daughter a strange look.  
“I need to talk to Star Fleet. I have information they need to know,” said Jet. She looked around.   
“Wait,” said one of the priests. “We need to examine…”  
“If I don’t tell Star Fleet what they need to know, General Mulaax will penetrate this facility and you will spend your last few minutes examining your own entrails,” Jet said pleasantly. “Oh I just love these new negotiation skills my symbiont has given me... I think I’m going to enjoy being joined so much more than my symbiont is.”  
“Who are you?” asked the priest.  
Jet had an unusual authority and power about her slight form and girlish voice. “Star Fleet now, introductions later. Or did you miss the bit about your entrails?”

A cabal of priests were conferring about how to handle Jet and were incautious enough to mention her name when another trill and a woman of evidently mixed vulcan and romulan heritage hurried into this part of the cavern.

Rumor Boel ran to his daughter - “JET!!!”

Elaine Norman stopped and spoke quietly to the small cabal of priests – her quiet intensity gathering their rapt attention. “Attempt to take that girl prisoner or do anything against her will and I will twist your heads off and market them as septic receptacles.”  
Rumor returned with his family. “I am taking them to meet Captain Dolphin.”  
“You won’t have to take them far,” came Lt. Grorher’s deep, rumbly voice. The large, furry pilot, no longer carrying a plasma cannon on his shoulder, ambled toward the growing gathering of family, sanctuary bureaucrats and priests, Captain Kenneth Dolphin in tow.

Dolphin and Grorher had met Rumor Boel and Elaine Norman outside the Symbiont Sanctuary’s shield wall when the two climatologists had beamed down from the primary weather control satellite.

One of the priests stepped forward. “Captain Dolphin, I’m sorry, but this is now an internal affair. A trill has been taken against her will by a symbiont. We cannot allow…”  
Dolphin turned to Lt. Grorher. “Lieutenant, can you take the official complaint for me? I have a security matter to attend to.”  
The broad, furry pilot, still in his worn and torn red uniform, turned toward the priests. “Ladies, Gentlemen, if you would please explain your concerns to me. Captain Dolphin has the small matter of protecting your lives and this sanctuary and has delegated local concerns to me until this facility is secured…”  
While Lt. Grorher placed his quite substantial presence firmly between the priests and Dolphin, the captain continued toward the Boel family without breaking stride.

“So this is your family Mr. Boel?” Dolphin asked.  
“I am Jet Traxx,” said Jet. “I now carry the Traxx symbiont. We have not fully merged and I do not yet know all of Traxx’s secrets, but long ago, long before the Mulaax symbiont was joined with the man who is now General Hialal Mulaax, they developed a plan to capture this sanctuary. Part of that plan involved driving refugees in through the back door to the sanctuary. Traxx was to join with one of these refugees – a child who could be completely dominated – and bring the sanctuary shields down from the inside.” Jet groaned and clasped her belly. “Traxx is really angry…” She found a bench.  
“Traxx has a lot to learn. This isn’t the universe he last operated in,” Jet continued, her hands gently massaging her pouch. “Hopefully Traxx will meet Doctor Carrera tonight. That will change the way we see things.”  
Dolphin, who was already alert, shook his head quickly. “Sarekson Carrera? You know him? How is he?”  
“That depends upon what the meaning of the word ‘is’ is…” Jet replied.  
Dolphin squinted at the teenage trill as if she had suddenly transformed into a potted plant. “What??”  
“Your language is terribly imprecise when it comes to temporal mapping. Sarekson and I have been friends for centuries.”  
“Do you mean Traxx and Dr. Carrera?” Dolphin asked in considerable confusion.  
“No. Sarekson hasn’t met Traxx yet,” said Jet. “In fact, he hasn’t met me yet. I’m really looking forward to that. I remember the first time I met him…”

This strange conversation was interrupted by a rather worried sanctuary bureaucrat who had managed to worm his way past Lt. Grorher and into this small group. “Captain Dolphin, I’m sorry to interrupt, but we are preparing food for your troops outside. How many are there?”  
“Lieutenant Grorher and myself,” Dolphin responded.  
“But we were told you had about 800 troops outside," continued the trill bureaucrat. "Where have they gone?”  
“There were never any there," said Dolphin. "Just me and a communications array. And my new friend with his plasma cannon.”  
The trill shook his head. “What kind of strategy is that?”  
“Honestly, I have no idea,” Dolphin replied. “My Director of Ground Operations and Assistant Director of Flight Operations cooked it up at the last minute when they realized the weather satellites had been sabotaged to create all this fog. It sounded good to me, so I told them to run with it and I played the part they gave me. We’ll see if it works out…”  
The nervous trill gave Dolphin a strange look and scuttled off.   
Dolphin made a summoning motion to Elaine Norman, who had been standing back a little from the group. As she stepped up closer, he leaned in, put a hand to side of his mouth and whispered in her ear. “I can do that,” she responded, then quietly walked away in pursuit of the nervous trill priest.

Lt. Grorher stepped close to Dolphin, rumbled quietly under his breath. “Do you think that trill bureaucrat is our spy?”  
“Yeah. Probably,” Dolphin replied. “I think I may have sent one of the furies to verify it and collect him…”  
“Furies?” Grorher asked.  
Captain Dolphin gave the large, furry lieutenant a long, evaluating look. “Sort of a, uhmm, a goddess of vengeance?”  
Grorher smiled. “So you noticed that romulan woman has a temper…”

24.10


	77. Episode 24.11 - A Trillian Problem: Sacred Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> President-Elect Emory Ivonovic and President Maria Rodriguez release a joint public announcement regarding the Venus Incident.  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> It is very rare for a president and a president-elect of opposing parties to appear together and call for unity. You may recall President George W. Bush and President-Elect Barak Obama doing so due to the economic crisis that overwhelmed the end of the Bush administration.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 11: Sacred Ground

24.11  
Sacred Ground

The visuals of strange, rapidly growing and changing lifeforms were well known to most of the residents of Earth and had been seen in most elementary exobiology curricula throughout the Federation. It was the kind of imagery that stirred young imaginations and made children interested in science – much like the bones and reconstructions of dinosaurs or the images of the giant living hexapods of Paleonus V. But the glimpses of Venusian life were even more provocative. From a terrestrial point of view, these were extremophiles – living in the dense atmosphere of carbon dioxide at temperatures more than four times that needed to boil water on Earth.   
The discovery of this unique biology thriving next door to Earth and yet utterly alien to terrestrial life had completely revolutionized the study of life – had fundamentally redefined exobiology and led to the discovery of life in many places where it had previously been unimaginable. 

Then, the images were torn apart in a blinding flash and replaced by an image of the new Venus. Clear skies and barren ground.

“Less than three hundred years ago, we discovered evidence of life on Venus and it was one of the most monumental discoveries in the history of humankind. As stunned as we were to find life so much like our own, we were even more amazed to find life so completely different from our own.”  
The voice was the familiar voice of Federation President-Elect Emory Ivonovic – a voice that billions had come to trust and that billions more had gradually become familiar with to the point of acceptance.   
“That life was obliterated nine days ago. I am sorry it has taken this long to develop an adequate response to this ultimate act of greed, of lust, of wrath, of gluttony, of sloth, of envy, of pride.” Gradually, Ivonovic’s handsome face came into focus. His gray hair was neatly combed instead of styled out – giving it more of an iron gray look than its usual silver. He was wearing a simple, but elegantly tailored light brown suit with a darker brown shirt, uninterrupted by any adornment except a small, fully colored pin of the United Federation of Planets emblem, less than an inch in diameter, pinned to his left lapel. His chocolate brown eyes were somber, but intense with emotion.   
“Less than an hour ago, Federation President Maria Rodriguez signed the Venus Resolution, as passed by the Federation Council.   
“We were robbed of unique life on Venus, the wonder of our galaxy, by greed – the greed of people who want land that was never theirs to take and never will be theirs.   
“Venus was destroyed by lust – the lust for the illusion of power that a coward feels when holding a gun to the head of those who are unarmed.   
“Venus was murdered by wrath – the wrath of those who feel cheated that they were not born better than everyone else.   
“Venus was consumed by gluttony – the gluttony of those who can never be satisfied with the fruits of their honest labor but must have ever more and more that is not theirs.   
“Venus was denuded by sloth – the sloth of those who cheat us all of what they could achieve with honest effort for the easier path of thievery and robbery.   
“Venus was ruined by envy – the envy of those who must destroy anything wonderful out of fear that it might outshine them.   
“The wonder that was Venus was erased from our universe, never to come again. Erased by pride – the arrogant pride and vainglory of those who would appoint themselves god over the affairs and very lives of their peers.  
“It was not enough for these self-appointed arbiters of life and death who cower under the cloak of anonymity to murder our children. The felt compelled to reach into all of our hearts and murder one of the great wonders of our shared childhood. They felt they had the right to destroy a treasure that belonged to none of us, but the wonder of which was shared by us all.”

President-Elect Ivonovic’s image was gradually replaced by the image of President Maria Rodriguez, whose familiar voice had been a touchstone for the Federation for nearly six years.  
“On this day, the United Federation of Planets, by joint decree of the Federation Council and the Federation Tribunal, now declares the planet Venus, second planet in the Sol system, to be sacred ground. No expeditions, living or machine, are to enter orbit of Venus, enter the atmosphere of Venus or to attempt landing on Venus from this date for 400 standard years. The United Federation of Planets formally requests that the United Earth Governments empower Star Fleet to place a monument in orbit of Venus to transmit and monitor this decree and also to transmit the images we have recorded of the former life on Venus as a testament to its existence.  
“To my billions of fellow citizens of the United Federation of Planets and especially to my fellow humans: I know you are afraid. I know you heard the threats of genocide against our children. We do not take these threats lightly. And we will engage in every effort to protect our children, our communities and our way of life.”

Maria Rodriguez’s image was once again replaced by Emory Ivonovic.   
“Those of you who style yourselves members of Earth First must by now realize that this splinter group, calling themselves Venus First, have committed this atrocity in your name. They have made the lives of your children poorer – murdered children – and laid the blame for those murders at your feet. I am holding a door open for you. Come forth, abandon your terrorist connections. Look into your children’s eyes and tell them that Venus is dead. Then you decide – can you then tell your children that it was you who massacred Venus? Was it you who took that treasure – that wonder from your children?  
“Step away from Earth First. Step away from terrorism. If you have committed no act of terrorism, this blot can be removed from your family name. Consider whether you want your children to grow up steeped in wisdom and the ethic of hard work or whether you want them live their whole lives weighted down with gluttony, burdened with sloth, tormented by envy and wrath. Choose the right path for your children. Choose life.”

24.11


	78. Episode 24.12 - A Trillian Problem: It Takes A Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> General Hialal Mulaax's army retreats to the local villages near the Sanctuary of the Symbionts to use the local civilian populace as a shield against Star Fleet attack...
> 
>  _One thing trill soldiers were superb at was discipline and control. Even so, with the visibility as low as it was, these soldiers, the most elite units under General Mulaax’s command, would never have found their assigned villages without the guide posts – logistics soldiers who were stationed at regular intervals with lanterns to guide the master force units to the villages..._  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 12: It Takes a Village

24.12  
It Takes a Village

Organized streams of trill soldiers, the elite corps of the Trillian Master Force, marched through the roiling, incessant fog in organized lines. The fog was so thick they could barely see the backs of the soldiers in front of them. Mechanized artillery crept along gravel roads, having to stop often when they overran a turn in the road to pull their heavy machines back up off the grasses and muddy tracks by the sides of these roads. The fog left so much moisture on the ground that low-lying areas became boggy and treacherous for these heavy vehicles to maneuver. Most of the trill soldiers traveled as soldiers had from the dawn of time to the invention of the wheel, to the invention of motorized troop carriers, to the invention of hovering troop carriers, to the invention of transporters – they travelled on foot.  
One thing trill soldiers were superb at was discipline and control. Even so, with the visibility as low as it was, these soldiers, the most elite units under General Mulaax’s command, would never have found their assigned villages without the guide posts – logistics soldiers who were stationed at regular intervals with lanterns to guide the master force units to the villages. Officer’s quarters were in the central buildings of these villages – often some sort of city hall or a public house. Disciplined, but footsore and low on morale, the trill officers disappeared into these buildings, leaving only a few junior officers to see after the bulk of the forces, bunking them down in various assigned houses.  
Soldiers and officers entered these buildings. None came back outside. Finally only a few small guard units were left outside in each village to keep watch. One by one, these units were relieved by logistics troops so that they, too, could find warm beds indoors, leaving the non-elite logistics troops to stand watch for the night. No one could see anything through this fog anyway.

Only a few of these tired, fog-bound soldiers grew suspicious about the continued absence of their officers. Protocol required officers to regularly check on their troops and trills were sticklers for protocol. There were officers making the rounds, but not the officers these soldiers were familiar with. One platoon of soldiers approached a quartet of strange officers. As they approached, the officers moved further out into the fog, drawing the platoon slightly away from the village.   
One of these unusually tall, female officers challenged the group: “Soldiers, do you know where your billet is?” Her voice was muffled by the thick, roiling fog. The lights of the village, less than 20 meters away, were barely visible.  
“Yes ma’am, but we were expecting to check in with Lieutenant Kahjog. Do you know where she is?”  
“I do not know Lieutenant Kahjog, soldier. Are you certain you are with the correct company?”  
The soldier noticed the rank insignia on the officer’s lapel. “Yes, Sargent-Colonial, I observed Lieutenant Kahjog enter headquarters an hour ago. She is always the first officer on nightly rounds… ooovvv!!”  
The trill soldier doubled over as he received a sudden and unexpected blow to his solar plexus, robbing him of the ability to breathe. A savage blow to the back of his head robbed him of consciousness. The other nine soldiers in his group were quickly and quietly – if savagely – overpowered by Rumi Grace and her team. The unconscious trill soldiers were laid out on the foggy ground.  
“We have another ten at our location for beam-out,” whispered Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace. She and her team stepped back as the unconscious trill soldiers were beamed away. The tactical squad from the U.S.S. Hunter checked their fabricated Trill Army uniforms for damage before returning to the village, where they met up with another group of trill officers – these were actually trills, but like the Grace team, were Star Fleet crew disguised in Trill Army uniforms.  
“The camp is clear,” one of these false officers reported into a communicator. “We’re ready for the next group.”  
“Understood, Specialist,” came the voice from the communicator. “We’re directing the next group to your location. There should be 1,141 of them. We’ve kept them marching in circles for a few hours, so they should be nice and footsore when they get to you…”

As the village was cleared of the last group of trill soldiers and well before the next group was to arrive, Star Fleet crew, dressed in Trill Army uniforms, mounted into the abandoned mechanized artillery units and drove these a short way out of the village to a low-lying area where their presence was completely obscured by the fog.

\- * -

General Hialal Mulaax and his top aides – a few colonials, a few junior officers, a few soldiers and a few civilians beamed up to the lead ship in the Trillian Master Forces planetary defense group – or that was the plan. The transport cycle was interrupted by the interposition of a shield over their camp headquarters. Seconds later they were transported into separate brig units – eighteen of them in all. The soldiers and civilians had been beamed into the brig units of a number of wagons that had been hovering silently nearby.  
Their side arms were not transported with them – a number of hand phasers were left behind and dropped from the positions of their now vanished holsters onto the foggy ground with a series of light thumps.

\- * -

In orbit, 6 Trillian Master Force cruisers and 38 Trillian Master Force destroyers, along with several hundred interceptors were suddenly eclipsed as the U.S.S. Ark came out of warp and entered orbit. Strategically positioned between the system’s star and the trillian shipping, the Ark blotted out the sun, casting almost all of the trillian war ships in its massive shadow. The Ark was several times the size of a borg cube. It was essentially a group of four space stations coming out of warp as a single vessel. A vast cloud of interceptors erupted from various parts of these stations. Every viewscreen of every trill vessel came to life – all of them commandeered by a single overpowering signal from the U.S.S. Ark, bringing the porcine face of an extremely irritated-looking female tellerite wearing the black robes of the Federation Tribunal – the fully colored twin emblems of the United Federation of Planets on her lapels were the only relief of color from the black silk. 

Of course, tellerites were famous for appearing to be irritated at the best of times as well as for their dark humor and short tempers, but it was extremely clear this particularly piggy-faced tellerite justice was quite put out. 

“This is Tribunal Justice Cisl Mreek to all Trillian Master Forces vessels. Stand down, prepare to be boarded and placed under arrest. I am hereby indicting each and every one of you for the violation of the Cultural Treasures Clause of the Federation Charter, Section 19, for your role in the destruction of a designated level one cultural site, specifically the Trill Senate Tower in Laren Manev. Enough of this lawlessness. I am arresting all of you, all of you will be tried and we will sort out the guilty ones along the way. If you are somehow innocent of this crime and we cannot find another crime to charge you with, I do not apologize for the inconvenience. That’s what you get for keeping bad company. I warn you not to resist. I have authorized the use of deadly force under Section 4 of the Tribunal Charter. And be polite. I have my staff looking up the subsection that authorizes the use of thumbscrews for bad behavior. I know there’s got to a subsection about thumbscrews in there somewhere... Mreek out!”

24.12


	79. Episode 24.13 - The Tears of a Clown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Dolphin finds comfort among his crew...
> 
>  _“I need to be back on Earth. I need to be there for my daughters. And here I am on the furthest edge of the Federation facing an inquest because this greedy, hateful, ancient slug wearing the body of a spotted general wanted to slaughter its own kind…” Dolphin took a long, shaky breath. “It just feels like everything is falling apart…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I got the idea for the imoginette from a cosplayer I saw once who was very successfully androgynous.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 13: The Tears of a Clown

24.13  
The Tears of a Clown

When Justice Minerva Irons had captained the U.S.S. Hunter, she had spent as much time as possible in the company of her most trusted friend and advisor, the ship’s andorian Medical Director, Dr. Tali Shae. Captain Kenneth Dolphin’s most trusted friend and advisor was his vulcan Director of Ground Operations, Lt. T’Lon. What had begun as a desperate sexual affair had evolved into a very close, if platonic friendship.  
Dolphin had changed the décor in the captain’s stateroom, opting for a brighter, airier look filled with whites and light browns instead of the somber colors preferred by his predecessor. He and T’Lon were seated next to each other on one of two large, beige, semi-circular divans, sharing a bowl of vinars – a fruit they had picked up on Trillus Prime that bore no resemblance to a grape and tasted nothing at all like grapefruit.

“The Vulcan Science Academy is not going to be happy about the way we used their satellites,” said T’Lon.  
“That would be most illogical of them,” Dolphin observed. “We didn’t tamper with their weather control satellites. We just took advantage of the fact that some of their own local employees did.”  
“The academy will be particularly incensed with those two,” T’Lon observed. “I would be surprised if either Rumor Boel or Elaine Norman ever work as climatologists again.”  
“If they apply to Star Fleet, I will certainly give them a recommendation,” said Dolphin. “We got lucky with those two. If they hadn’t kicked up all that fog, we were almost certainly facing a bloodbath and it’s doubtful we would have been able to keep Mulaax from taking the sanctuary.”  
“There will still be an inquest.” said T’Lon  
“As there should be any time Star Fleet engages the military forces of an ally, even if they are in a state of mutiny…” said Dolphin.  
“Barratry,” T’Lon corrected. “But this is a new area of law. I can’t remember the last time Star Fleet used the Cultural Treasures Clause of Section 19 of the charter to justify military action against an ally.”  
“There is only one Sanctuary of the Symbionts and only a few thousand symbionts,” Dolphin observed. “I doubt we will ever find a clearer imperative to…”

The door chime to the captain’s chambers sounded. 

Dolphin exchanged a surprised glance with T’Lon. They both rose. Dolphin took a step toward the door:  
“Enter.”

The door opened to admit the Hunter’s new imoginette transporter engineer. The fine, shell like skin around Dragomut’s eyes was reddened and streaked with tears that also left the black uniform damp. The androgynous creature stumbled and Captain Dolphin reacted quickly, catching and settling the inconsolable engineer on the divan.   
It was evident that Dragomut desperately needed comforting, which did not come naturally to either T’Lon or Dolphin. In spite of having been raised among humans, T’Lon was still fully vulcan and actively suppressed her emotions. Although fully human, Dolphin had been raised in a family of New England WASPs, lawyers no less, and was no more adept or comfortable handling human emotions than the average vulcan. But there was one difference.  
Dolphin sat down and brought his odd, androgynous, alien crewmember into his arms. Somewhere, deep in his mind was the memory of comforting his daughters when their hearts had been broken by some more or less consequential event. Sometimes they were crying over nothing – a broken toy. Sometimes they were crying over something that he had wished he could cry with them about – their broken family. He was stroking an oddly soft, shell like conical skull instead of fine blonde hair, but the nurturing instinct was the same.  
If these strange, extremely shy aliens could not find a home aboard the U.S.S. Hunter, how would they fit into an increasingly fractious, suspicious and xenophobic federation? Dolphin felt ashamed of his reticence, ashamed of the warring trills and andorians and more than any others, the murderous dregs of humanity daring to style themselves as Earth First or Venus First. Murder First – that’s what they were. 

Dolphin felt the strange alien burrowing close, childlike. He looked up at T’Lon, now sitting across from him. She was just watching. The phaser scars on the right side of her face made her look older, and harder than she actually was.   
“I couldn’t allow you to go on that way, Captain,” Dragomut said. Somehow, by engaging Dolphin’s nurturing instinct, the imoginette engineer had broken something loose in him. Something painful had found its way to the surface.  
T’Lon was reading her captain’s emotions, but not understanding them. He barely understood himself where all this was coming from. “What is it, Kenny?”  
“Hunter, display personal file, Starlight’s paintings, age 5,” Dolphin said.   
A sequence of childish paintings were displayed on the large viewer on the wall next to the door that led to the captain’s office.   
“Hold.” The sequence paused on a particularly lively, if quite obviously childish painting.  
It took a few minutes for T’Lon to process this early example of an earnest child’s attempt at representation in paint. It just seemed like abstract art. Not very good abstract art. But there was a vague familiarity to the colorful, somewhat sloppy, blobby shapes.  
“Venusians,” T’Lon said, finally.  
“Starlight was in love with them – all that weird, impossible life on Venus,” Dolphin said. “River too. Life that was nearly impossible for us to detect through that bubbling cauldron of an atmosphere. It fired my imagination when I was a child. Starlight and River went on and on about it – just like most children – it was amazing and wonderful to them. A world they could never touch – only travel to in their imaginations. The people who destroyed that life – they reached into my daughters’ hearts and a crushed a part of their childhood. Destroyed a piece of their souls. And it’s not just that." Dolphin stopped to wipe tears from his eyes with a finger. "River and Starlight were on the Hudson when those Earth First terrorists released all those bodies into the river. All those dead children floating in the Hudson River… Starlight and River were trying to rescue them…” Dolphin caught his breath.  
“I need to be back on Earth. I need to be there for my daughters. And here I am on the furthest edge of the Federation facing an inquest because this greedy, hateful, ancient slug wearing the body of a spotted general wanted to slaughter its own kind…” He took a long, shaky breath, blinked back more tears. “It just feels like everything is falling apart… Minerva – whatever insanity has taken her from us... Vulcans killing one another in their own civil war…”   
Dolphin looked down at the strange alien in his arms. “Dragomut… I thought you had come here because someone mistreated you – because you needed my help. You came here to help me, didn’t you?”  
“Maybe every starship needs an imoginette on their crew,” mused T’Lon.  
“Yeah, maybe,” Dolphin replied. “Or maybe we just got the special one.”

24.13


	80. Episode 24.14 - The Children of Rising Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Federation President Maria Rodriguez and President-Elect Emory Ivonovic travel to the colony on Rising Sun to keep a promise...  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Time to address the Hudson River Incident...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 14: The Children of Rising Sun

24.14  
The Children of Rising Sun

Rising Sun was an Earth-like planet on which an intelligent, humanoid species had once thrived but had become extinct nearly 20,000 years ago, leaving behind tantalizing clues of a culture that, on at least four separate occasions, each separated by thousands of years and located on different continents, had been on the verge of an industrial revolution, only back away each time and return to a more primitive agrarian culture. This dead race had left no descendants and its only remotely close living relative was a vigorous and curious, if foul tempered creature not entirely unlike a large and rather dangerously carnivorous lemur.

The Vulcan Science Academy eventually approved the planet for human habitation and over the next three centuries a few small colonies of vulcan xenoanthropologists shared the planet with a burgeoning human population, mostly farmers. The Vulcan High Command had been very interested in populating Rising Sun as quickly as possible because it was strategically located near the border of the Klingon Empire.   
Unlike Earth and Vulcan, where human and vulcan populations were very integrated, the vulcans and humans of Rising Sun kept very much to their own communities. There were two iconic locations on Rising Sun well known by sight throughout the Federation. One site was nearly 28,000 years old – a city of massive stones that had been erected by Rising Sun’s extinct indigenous population – the last and greatest of their great works. A forest had later grown in among these stones, but the tallest of the stones towered well above the tree tops. These were located on Central Island – a large landmass populated only by researchers and was apparently the place where the species had first emerged.  
The other icon on Rising Sun was a new harbor located in the Soda Toer Archipelago – a beautifully designed new city that offered stunning views from every angle. The human population of Rising Sun had exploded and the entire landmass of the archipelago had become a massive city filled with buildings, gardens and waterways bursting with color. Massive, brightly colored bridges burgeoning with even more housing and shops connected the various islands of the archipelago.

It was at Toer Harbor that the President and President-Elect of the Federation gave an unexpected joint presentation, backed by several hundred Star Fleet officers and officers from the Soda Toer Port Authority, the New York Port Authority and the New York City Police Department. Each officer was holding a pad turned toward the camera, displaying the photoimage of a child. Federation President Maria Rodriguez spoke first.

“Only three weeks ago, members of a terrorist organization, now known as Venus First, poisoned more than four hundred children and set their bodies afloat in the Hudson River. We retrieved the bodies of 411 children. We have now identified that at least 417 children were murdered in one of the most horrifying hate crimes of our time. I promised you then that I would release the names of those children, but only after the investigation was complete.”  
“The New York Port Authority took the lead in the investigation until they were able to identify that a large number of the children were not from Earth. A joint task force was developed, led by the New York City Police Department and involving local agencies across the Federation and coordinated by Star Fleet Intelligence. The terrorist unit that planned and carried out this atrocity was traced to Rising Sun. They kidnapped 98 of those children here.”  
President-Elect Ivonovic picked up the story:  
“The terrorists have been identified and arrested. You will eventually learn their names as they are brought to trial. But it is more important to note that these people, styling themselves as Venus First, planned and executed this atrocity as the opening act for their unimaginable next act – the Venusian Massacre. More arrests will follow very swiftly. We have the list of names and their leadership has already been arrested. Local authorities throughout the Federation will be rolling up local units.”  
Ivonovic took a deep breath. “It is worth noting that the murder of children in the Hudson River Incident was so shocking to the conscience that hundreds of members of Earth First have turned themselves in and agreed to turn State’s evidence against the perpetrators of these atrocities. We continue to encourage the members of these extremist groups to look into your hearts. Is this your legacy? The murder of children? The massacre of innocent life? We continue to hold out the hope that you will set aside your fear and come back to us. You don’t have to turn in your confederates. Just turn away from violence and hate and reaffirm your commitment to the safety and health of your people. Violence is not the way. Terrorism is not the way. You may have legitimate concerns. You may be legitimately concerned about the future of your children. Work with us to address them the right way, not by murdering children.”  
Federation President Maria Rodriguez held up the pad in her hand.   
“Today is not the day to name the defendants," she said. "Their names should not be the names you remember. Each person standing here with me is holding a photogram. I promised that we would release the names of the children who were murdered. This child was Henry Argent. Henry was a talented organist and with his brothers had just completed a concert tour of Rising Sun,” President Rodriguez caught her breath… “Henry was 11 years old.”  
President-Elect Ivonovic held up a pad. His voice was husky with emotion. “This is Robert Argent, who played violin, balalaika and the chelnoise flute with his brothers. Like his brothers, Robert was from this city, Toer Harbor, here on Rising Sun. Robert was 9 years old.”  
An older woman wearing the uniform of the Soda Toer Port Authority was standing next to Ivonovic. The decoration on her uniform made it evident she was a very high ranking officer. She held up a pad with a photogram. Her face was shiny with tears. “This is Thomas Argent. Only 14 years old, Thomas was already considered one of the most talented drummers on Rising Sun…” 

24.14


	81. Episode 24.15 - Jet Traxx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Jet Traxx (a 15 year-old hybrid trill/bajoran girl joined to a 2,000+ year old symbiont) demands her place in the leadership of the Trill Senate...  
>  _“It is appropriate that we are met in place, this temple to the Prophets of Bajor, for I am brought to you by Bajor. I am Jet Boel and I am of Bajor. My great grandmother was Kai Opaka Sulan and the prophets have watched over me since my birth. It is because I am of Trillus that I bear the Traxx symbiont. It is because I am of Bajor that the Traxx symbiont cannot dominate me. I am a child of the prophets. My paugh was pre-ordained. I am a child of destiny..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I had many plans for Jet Traxx - a combination of a bajoran prophet, the lavardorn avatar (with the memories of six other women - previous avatars), a teenage girl and an ancient trillian symbiont. I envision her in leadership roles on Trillus Prime, Bajor and within the Federation.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 15: Jet Traxx

24.15  
Jet Traxx

In addition to the Trill Senate Tower and the United Federation of Planets Administrative Center in the City of Laren Manev, both of which had been obliterated in the well-publicized attack by General Hialal Mulaax’s forces, the embassies of the Vulcan High Command, the Andorian Empire, the Cardassian Union, the Betazed Consulate, the Klingon Empire and the United Earth Governments had all been damaged beyond repair and were condemned. This left the historic Laren Manev Municipal Building, the Ferengi Commerce Authority and the Bajoran Temple as the only meeting halls sufficient to host a reconstruction conference.

Even though Traxx had been banned from taking another host by the priesthood, under trillian customs, the oldest joined symbiont had the right to convene any governing body of symbionts. These customs predated the priesthood by centuries and when Jet Traxx pressed her right, while it was bitterly opposed by the Symbiont Sanctuary priests, it was generally supported by joined trills in no small part out of curiosity about the legendary wild symbiont (and in no small amount out of resentment the symbionts harbored toward the priesthood.)

Jet and the Boel family, which seemed to unapologetically include Elaine Norman, had traveled to the U.S.S. Ark along with Captain Kenneth Dolphin and Lt. Grorher. The Ark was simply unimaginably large and the only part of it they visited was Ark Hospital Section 2.D., one of 16 sprawling medical facilities in Saucer Section 2, for 2nd Lt. Chrissiana Trei to perform reconstructive surgery on Jet’s nose and provide health checkups for the rest of Jet’s family and for Lt. Grorher.  
The large, furry pilot took the opportunity to obtain a fresh, red uniform and wash the static and leaves out of his bushels of blonde hair. Elaine Norman also received much needed restorative surgery, removing the many battle scars and repairing damage to her side and her leg that she had sustained during the firefight on the Vulcan Weather Control station.

Several thousand people, not only trills, but representatives from other federation worlds, the Klingon Empire and the embattled Cardassian Union, were gathered in the balconies of the Bajoran Temple, where Jet Traxx had decided to hold the reconstruction meeting. Newly appointed senators, representing the municipal and regional governments across the planet had seats on the floor. It was the first Trill Senate in centuries that actually resembled the populace. In addition to the trills most commonly seen offworld, were trills with spotting so light it was almost nonexistent and trills whose entire bodies were covered with large spots. Very few of these trills were joined to symbionts – which disqualified them from leadership positions.   
Even these traditionally disadvantaged trills were stunned and let out a gasp when Jet Traxx entered the room and walked from the narthex to the chancel, flanked on her left by a human with curly blonde hair wearing a black Star Fleet uniform with the rank insignia of captain and on her right by an oddly handsome beast with carefully combed blonde tresses that completely covered the back of his red Star Fleet uniform, which bore the rank insignia of a first lieutenant.  
It was not her honor guard of Star Fleet officers that caused the gasps of disbelief and startled looks.  
Nor was it Jet’s evident immaturity and the uncomfortable looking bulge of the ancient symbiont in her dermal pouch that her gown could cover but not conceal.

It was her nose.

The reconstructive surgery had restored the bajoran nose ridges that were Jet’s birthright as a hybrid trill and bajoran. 

As Captain Kenneth Dolphin and Lt. Grorher found seats at the rear of the chancel, Jet took her place on the chancel dais. 

“What gives you the right to judge yourself unworthy of an exceptional life?  
“What right do you have to hold yourself above the needs of your neighbors, above the needs of your family, above your own needs and instead to give in to the lifeless void that our universe seems to present to you nearly everywhere you look?  
“What gives you the right to sigh and step aside from one moment of your potential?  
“What gives you the right to drop your head into your hands and deny to the universe the gifts that the universe has gifted to you?”

“It is appropriate that we are met in place, this temple to the Prophets of Bajor, for I am brought to you by Bajor. I am Jet Boel and I am of Bajor. My great grandmother was Kai Opaka Sulan and the prophets have watched over me since my birth. It is because I am of Trillus that I bear the Traxx symbiont. It is because I am of Bajor that the Traxx symbiont cannot dominate me. I am a child of the prophets. My paugh was pre-ordained. I am a child of destiny.  
“But look behind me and you will see two men who stood alone in front of the Sanctuary of the Symbionts and turned back an army. Are these not children of destiny as well? How else could they have had the courage to stand, only the two of them, against our mighty army and turn that army back?  
“Now look to the balcony. There stands Elaine Norman who alone and without weapons or any special training attacked eight armed men, receiving severe phaser burns and yet she persevered and won and had she not, we would not be meeting in this place, having narrowly survived the greatest threat to our way of life, to our democratic institutions since their inception. Surely Elaine is a child of destiny.  
“But you are a child of destiny as well. Think back on how close you have come to being killed – on how many occasions. Think back on the odd twists and turns of fate that brought you to this place to hear what one whom you perceive to be a child, thinks.”

“I am a child and I think like a child. I am only 15 years old. But I lived six lifetimes before this one, six lifetimes before I met Traxx. And Traxx is more than two thousand years old – the oldest symbiont – the oldest of the wild ones. And within me, Traxx is given a new life, reborn, the wildness neither contained nor cured, but transformed.  
“You should be wondering why I am not calling you to work together to rebuild our culture. To rebuild our city. To rebuild our civilization. That is the message you came here thinking that you needed to hear – me calling you to work with your neighbor.”

“But you already know that. I did not step up here to tell you what you already know. I came to tell you what you need to know. So let me tell you something about destiny.  
“Everything happens for a reason. You hear people say it all the time. And it is true. Everything happens for a reason.  
“But you will never know what that reason is. Not that it matters. It was a stupid reason anyway and it had nothing to do with you, your wealth or your happiness. As far as you are concerned, it might as well have been random chance…  
“Except for this. You were born. You live. Every second of this life you have been granted is a miracle beyond words and you must treat it as such. And see it as such in the eyes of other living beings – that their lives are just as miraculous.   
“Burn this astonishing truth into your mind. Write it indelibly on your soul: Every moment of your life is a miracle.   
“Do not waste a single moment. Not one. Give everything you are to this life. This is what these times call for. This is what our people need. This is what destiny requires of you. Everything.”

“For destiny will ultimately take everything away from you. Whether you chose to give it or not.”

24.15


	82. Episode 24.16 - Red, Flowers, and Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Dolphin is summoned to a mysterious sea side rendezvous aboard the U.S.S. Ark...
> 
>  _“Well, you have me completely flabbergasted,” Dolphin replied, looking at her, then at the bouquet of roses she had just handed him. He was holding them rather tentatively, as if she had just given him a handful of squirming ferrets..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I have a hard time expressing just how huge the Ark is. Large enough to carry five small oceans..."  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 24: A Trillian Problem  
Scene 16: Red, Flowers and Wine

24.16  
Red, Flowers and Wine

“Hello Citizen Dolphin, you are completely dressed out to the yardarms, yes?” Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov was smirking at Dolphin from a viewscreen in a small, secure communications compartment aboard the U.S.S. Ark.

Dolphin was wearing the brown pinstriped suit given to him by then Governor Emory Ivonovic. The white shirt was buttoned to the top collar and a beautifully detailed collar clasp made from tiny stained glass beads (which had long ago replaced the necktie as a formal accessory for formal suits on formal occasions) glittered with blue and aquamarine colors where it joined and peeked out from under his shirt collar.

“It appears one of my officers has arranged a date for me – or facilitated such an arrangement,” Dolphin replied. “But I have a few minutes before I am scheduled for this mysterious rendezvous…”  
“I just wanted to call to let you know that I really hate you,” Chekov smiled. “So you stood alone in front of the Symbiont Sanctuary and faced down a trill army?”  
“That was the plan,” Dolphin replied. “However there was a Star Fleet lieutenant who happened to be there when I got there. Big furry fellow. Carrying a plasma cannon on his shoulder, no less. It was just a little less spooky with him there by my side.”  
“Well, I have to inform you that I will be one of the officers at your inquest,” said Chekov.  
“Then we run the risk of this being ex-parte communication,” Dolphin responded.   
“I just thought you might be amused to know that there are rumors of a lone Star Fleet captain staring down an army of 20,000 trills until he could see the spots on their necks – that’s the way the klingons are telling the story…” Chekov chuckled.  
Dolphin rolled his eyes. “Great,” he muttered. “Just what I need. Glory-hungry klingons after my scalp.”  
“Such price fame, yes?” Chekov rejoined. “I just thought that would brighten up your day. And you should know that I have a very cold bottle of very high quality vodka waiting in my cabin for the next time we are in the same parsec. Oh and Kenny…”  
“Yes Rear Admiral?”   
“Do not say the word ‘love’ tonight unless you are talking about how the chef prepared your fish…”  
“Roger Willco Serge,” Dolphin replied with a salute.  
“Don’t salute when you’re wearing civvies, Kenny. Enjoy your mystery date!”  
“Thank you sir… Good night Serge Mykel.”

Dolphin stepped out of the communication box – one in a bank of a few dozen available on this part of the beach for passengers aboard the Ark who did not have formal quarters – beach bums. He was not on one of the four gargantuan saucer sections, but aboard the main engineering hull itself. Each of the saucer sections had room for a small ocean among other environments.   
The beach Dolphin was standing on was one edge of a much larger ocean carried inside the engineering section - an ocean teaming with life. Sailboats could be seen out to sea. Surfers rode the waves closer to the beach. And here along the beach were hundreds of stores, shops, restaurants – as there were on the other shore on the other end of the engineering section.   
The U.S.S. Ark was humanity’s first attempt to do what the romulans had been doing for nearly a half-century - preserving and growing living planetary environments inside massive space vessels. Only the Ark was designed to do something more – to transplant entire environments from doomed planets onto new worlds where that life might have a future. It was an almost unimaginable triumph of technology and collective action. Destroying life was easy – could be done entirely accidentally. Preserving life took an effort.

Dolphin’s eyes strayed across an exceptionally beautiful, dark skinned woman, clearly of Persian descent, wearing an elegant red evening gown. He laughed and bowed gallantly. “Captain Red… are you whom I was summoned here to meet?”  
From behind her back, Red produced a small bouquet of red roses. “You are such a woman, Dolphin…” She handed him the bouquet, which he took with no small amount of confusion and looked at strangely. “Fortunately, I like women…”  
“Well, you have me completely flabbergasted,” Dolphin replied, looking at her, then at the bouquet of roses she had just handed him. He was holding them rather tentatively, as if she had just given him a handful of squirming ferrets.  
Red gave him an exasperated look. “Those are for our table. You really are quite bad at this dating business, aren’t you?” She held out her hand.   
It took a few heartbeats for Dolphin to realize she meant for him to take her hand. He let her lead him by the hand to one of the nicer restaurants along the shore and a bolian waiter brought a vase for him to place the roses in. “I… I’m not really certain, but I think this might be the first formal date I’ve actually been on,” Dolphin said. “Aside from high school homecoming, that is.”  
“Well, our last time together…” Red started. “I guess something went wrong. You’ve been cold fish to me ever since…”  
“Well, no, I mean,” Dolphin stammered, “It was amazing, intense… more than a little scary. Nothing short of mind-blowing. But… you know… you can be quite scary…”  
“You seemed to like it at the time…”  
“What’s not to like?” Dolphin looked down, took a deep breath. “You know, but, my life is rather full of intense and scary… I guess I just felt a little… overloaded?”  
“That’s why we’re starting with wine this time,” said Red. The bolian waiter appeared on cue.  
The waiter held up a bottle that had recently been uncorked, turning it so his guests could see the label: “A rich, dusky, and rather mellow merlot from the vinyards of California should be comfortable to the New England palate…” He poured the wine.   
Dolphin was completely ignorant about wine, but he had to admit the waiter had made a decent choice.  
“Okay, so we’re kind of starting from scratch, but not quite,” Dolphin said. “I have a personal question – a very personal question I’ve been dying to ask you…”  
“Only for you,” Red replied. “If I answer, you must keep the answer strictly to yourself. Not even your scar-faced vulcan friend…”  
“Fair enough,” Dolphin replied. “So I was told that you changed your name to Red in protest when you were seven years old...” he paused, looked down, then looked up again into her eyes. “What were you protesting?”  
Red started laughing. She rolled her head back, eyes closed, a merry sound. “Okay - almost no one knows this… You know I was born in Iran…”  
“Yes… You’re Persian…”  
“Not entirely. My father is Egyptian. And he gave me a typical Egyptian name, which is a boxcar list of every female ancestor for whom a name is on record. My given name was more than 50 words long, more than half of which would be a nightmare for anyone to pronounce. After they tried to teach me my name for the – I don’t know – millionth time I just lost my temper and put my tiny, seven-year-old foot down and informed them my name is Red…”

24 – A Trillian Problem


	83. Episode 25.1 - I Dream of Shiva: Snakes and Ladders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A romulan slavemaster becomes an initiate in a religion of the slaves...
> 
>  _“I am died and reborn,” said Philomo. “I am the mogu mogo who is come to change the world. This world has been judged. Sentence has been passed. A richly deserved doom has been given. I am that doom. I am the mogu mogo…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> *Mogu mogo: native to Saketh...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 1: Snake and Ladders

25.1  
Snakes and Ladders

Ru’us had made his way to the middle of the black salt flats and joined a mining camp. Philomo was one of the harshest of the romulan slave masters and Ru’us had been instructed to seek him out for this reason. Under Philomo’s whip, the smallest infraction could bring hours of agony – Philomo’s whip was always covered with a layer of black salt over a layer of cure – a preservative and lubricant designed to protect the whip leather from the salt.  
“Mogu mogo*,” Ru’us whispered, earning a rough slap to the side of his head from Philomo’s leather-gloved fist.  
The romulan slavemaster gripped his newest slave by the throat, drew the hemra within an inch of his face, a fierce look in his blue eyes, and whispered, “Mogu mogo,” then cast his slave aside into the blazing hot black salt sands.   
Ru’us barely landed on the sand, then scrambled quickly to his feet and disappeared back into the nondescript work group, joining the slaves that were scraping the black surface and separating sand from salt. As Ru’us worked his way through this group, one hand after another came from among the other slaves to carefully shake loose dirt and sand from his ragged beige robe.

The sun was rising toward mid-morning, which put a stop to the work of this traveling salt mining camp. Slaves and masters alike drew white covers over equipment and supplies, pitched white tents with raised floors and retreated from the blazing heat of day. In these temperatures, the tents became islands in between which neither hemra (to the eye, indistinguishable from humans) nor romulan could survive.   
Each tent had two large, convection driven air conditioners that were powered by a combination of the heat rising from the black sand and direct solar energy. Within minutes, each tent would puff out from the positive air pressure inside, maintaining a tolerable temperature inside. Romulans never entered the hemra tents and only the most trusted hemra slaves were allowed to provide service inside the romulan tents.  
But Philomo was here, inside the temple – a secret that had heretofore been kept from the romulans. Ru’us took his place at the presbytery and in his soft voice said, “Advance, initiate.”  
The other hemra were amazed as this romulan, the cruelest of the slavemasters, removed all of his clothing and advanced, naked, to the narthex, beneath the ladders that formed the central roof supports of the tent. Like the hemra slaves, Philomo was thin – all muscle and sinew. Hemra dutifully came forward and secured the slavemaster’s wrists and ankles by ropes to the ladders. Another brought the slavemaster’s whip to Ru’us. Eight other hemra lined up behind the itinerant shaman.  
Ru’us’ voice was soft, quiet: “I am the mogu mogo who strikes without mercy.” He laid the whip cruelly to Philomo’s genitals, causing the romulan to grunt and writhe in pain.  
Ru’us then handed the whip to the person standing behind him. She, in turn, took the whip and walked around behind the naked, bound romulan.   
“I am the mogu mogo who strikes unawares.” She slashed the romulan viciously across his lower back, drawing a thin line of green blood.  
One by one, the other slaves took the whip:  
“I am the mogu mogo who siphons your breath…”  
“I am the mogu mogo who cripples your feet…”  
“I am the mogu mogo who steals your strength…”  
“I am the mogu mogo who, like lightning, strikes the same target again…”  
“I am the mogu mogo who places her seed in your belly so that her young may feed on you…”  
“I am the mogu mogo who burst forth in a horde from your mouth, taking your life so that we may grow and multiply and replace your kind.”

The final whipscar was laid along the romulan’s jaw. Philomo stilled himself – he had endured a beating as harsh as any he had handed out to any of these slaves or their families. And he had endured this torment in nearly complete silence. It took a moment for him to gather the strength to speak.

“I am died and reborn,” said Philomo. “I am the mogu mogo who is come to change the world. This world has been judged. Sentence has been passed. A richly deserved doom has been given. I am that doom. I am the mogu mogo…”

_*Mogu mogo – a snake-like creature native to the deserts of Saketh, armed with a poisonous stinger and famous for burrowing into the stomach of large prey to lay their eggs. The larvae escape from the mouth after a gestation period of two weeks. The snake has wings in its larval form, which shed immediately following their first flight – generally 6 hours of non-stop flight._

25.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Philomo  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Romulan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Safagrette, Saketh  
> Introduced: Episode 25.1  
> Age when introduced: 30  
> Role: 2nd High Priest, Cult of Shiva


	84. Episode 25 - I Dream of Shiva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction to Episode 25 - I Dream of Shiva  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> It gets dark from here.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva

Episode 25 – I Dream of Shiva

_“Lord Krsna said: I am terrible time, the destroyer of all beings in all worlds, engaged to destroy all being in this world; of those heroic soldiers presently situated in the opposing army, even without you none will be spared.”_

_Bhagavad-Gita_ _, Chapter 11, Verse 32_

Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter)

Captain Kenneth Dolphin  
Chief Executive Officer – Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles  
Chief Operations Officer - Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor

  
Medical Director – Lt. Jazz Sam Sinder  
Asst. Medical Director – 2nd Lt. Gabriella Griff  
Ensign Sif  
Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Kunto Wekesa (nickname Kit)  
Forensic Specialist – Midshipman Raaven  
Emergency Medical Hologram - Dr. Raj  
Tactical Medical Hologram - Dr. Kim  
.  
Director of Flight Operations – (Vacant)  
Asst. Flight Dir. - 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks  
Navigator Johanna Imex  
Navigator Auqa’rh’lth   
Ensign Chelna Zusa  
Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate)  
Flight Specialist Dih Terri  
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar  
Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper  
.  
Director of Ground Operations - Lt. T’Lon  
Asst. Ground Ops Dir. - 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves  
Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace  
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina)  
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki  
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi  
Ensign Eykirros Jones (nickname is Ike Jones)  
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo  
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment)  
.  
Director of Engineering - Lt. Moon Sun Salek  
Asst. Engineering Dir. - 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui  
Midshipman Carlos Datsun  
Transporter Engineer Dragomut  
Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars  
Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas  
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs  
Flight Engineer Tomos  
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon


	85. Episode 25.2 - I Dream of Shiva: Come Fly With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor, the U.S.S. Hunter's Chief of Operations, has a candidate for the opening for a Director of Flight Operations...
> 
>  _“And all of the pilots under your command died on that mission?” Gamor asked._  
>  _“I asked for volunteers and told them they would not be coming home... Every pilot in my training wing volunteered..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> You might remember at the beginning of Star Trek Hunter, 2nd Lt. Gaia Gamor was the Assistant Director of Flight Operations...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 2: Come Fly With Me

25.2  
Come Fly With Me

“If you want to know what leadership is, lead a wing of bajoran pilots on a suicide mission and they will teach it to you,” rumbled Lt. Grorher.

The large, furry pilot was seated on a park bench in Yuri Gagarin Memorial Park, inside the U.S.S. Milky Way’s saucer section. The U.S.S. Hunter’s 2nd officer was seated next to him. Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor was holding a glass with iced lemonade. Lt. Grorher was slowly working down a tall glass of something that looked like milk.

“I was about to ask about that mission,” said Gamor. “You must have known that none of your pilots were likely to come back alive. No space support – only a dozen interceptors to take on hundreds of Trillian aircraft with flack coming up from ground positions and tracking fire coming at you from ships and satellites in orbit. Why did you take that mission?”  
“Because no one else would,” Grorher replied. “The Sanctuary of the Symbionts was under attack by far superior forces and Star Fleet was not able to respond. Officially, the Bajoran Defense Forces could not respond either because the attack presented no threat to Bajor. Officially, my assignment was to assess the situation, observe and report. We knew there would be no backup. No ships. No ground support. I was given broad mission parameters to observe as closely as necessary and to fire if fired upon. If my wing had done any less, there would not have been a Sanctuary for you to defend when you got there.”  
“And all of the pilots under your command died on that mission?” Gamor asked.  
“I asked for volunteers and told them they would not be coming home – and there was little chance even their remains would be recovered. I told them, if you go on this mission, your blood is now the blood of Trillus Prime. They knew what we would be trying to save, and that we were the only ones who would. I told them it would be worth it. Every pilot in my training wing volunteered. We found hidden positions to park our interceptors during the nights and were able to continue running missions for four days before they got the last of us. They jammed our emergency escape transporters and shot down our parachutes. So we learned we would have to go down with our birds. I was the only one who survived.”  
“You were the last to be shot down?” asked Lt. Cmdr. Gamor.  
“I am a very good pilot," Lt. Grorher replied. "I have been flying solo missions for nearly 20 years. Against the best. I flew against klingons. I flew against cardassians. I flew against jem’hadar. I flew against Star Fleet. Before the Trillian Master Force put me down, I avenged each of my pilots and two more – 14 kills in four hours.”  
“What would you do if you were ordered to betray Star Fleet by a changeling?” Gamor asked.  
Grorher shook his head. “My kind know the Founders anywhere. They cannot take any form that would confuse us. They have no scent. They are not gods and although they created my race, I owe them nothing. I swore my loyalty to Star Fleet and Star Fleet has proven its loyalty to me. If ordered to betray Star Fleet by a Founder – or by anyone else – I would only do it if I could turn that act to benefit Star Fleet.”  
“One more question, Lieutenant: why do you want to serve on the U.S.S. Hunter?”  
“I understand that Captain Dolphin came up with the justification to protect the Symbionts using the Cultural Treasures clause of Section 19 of the Federation Charter?” asked Grorher.  
“He did,” Gamor answered. “He brought it up in senior staff meeting and workshopped the idea with us before taking it to Admiral Yasutake, Star Fleet’s Judge Advocate General.”  
“Until last week, I had only ever heard people denigrate lawyers. Here is a man who used the law like a warrior uses a phaser. I am not a lawyer, but now I want to become one. I want to learn how to fight like that.”

25.2


	86. Episode 25.3 - I Dream of Shiva: Wheel In The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A hemra slave describes the dream that brought her into the Cult of Shiva - and the prophesy of a great wheel in the sky...
> 
>  _“I’m a city administrator, not a cultural anthropologist, so it seems counter-intuitive to me,” Leonus mused. “You would think the successful religions would be those that encouraged indulgence in sexuality, the carnal pleasures of the flesh. There has been no shortage of such religions throughout history and they always failed to thrive. It has always been the religions that require suppression of sexual desire that grow like weeds.”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> For some odd reason, most of the scenes in this episode have names of popular songs (or in the case of Get Brack, close to the name of a popular song...)  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 3: Wheel in the Sky

25.3  
Wheel in the Sky

Hemra slaves who denied themselves food until they were only eating a single bowl of habcha bean sprouts and knickers a day quickly became useless for hard labor, but the ascetic movement did not find many converts among the hundreds of millions of slaves used for farming, mining or building. It was very much a movement among the more highly educated slaves and did not seem to interfere with their record keeping, drafting, teaching and traffic management duties.  
If anything, the ascetics seemed to excel at their work. Their romulan slavemasters quickly adapted, allowing the ascetics to dress in simpler clothing as long as it was washed daily. The ascetics shaved their entire bodies and washed twice daily, so they tended to be cleaner than other slaves. This made them increasingly desirable as household slaves. 

Seta swallowed, cleaned her lips with her finger, then swallowed again. She was a young hemra slave in the House of Deleonus in Safagreer, the primary spaceport on Saketh. Her master, Leonus, an elderly romulan, was reclined on his daybed reviewing a report in his reader as she adjusted his clothing and stood up.  
“I am curious, Seta,” said Leonus, not looking up from his reader.  
Seta stood patiently and waited for her master to speak.  
“You take no pleasure in that at all?” he asked, setting his reader aside after a few moments.  
“My Lord Shiva allows me to indulge in the momentary satisfaction of a task successfully accomplished," the young hemra slave replied. "But the passions of my own flesh belong to Lord Shiva. I am forbidden from indulging them. Only the barest amount of food to maintain my physical form.”  
Leonus stroked his short, gray beard. “And the removal of all of your hair - even your eyebrows?”  
“Being a slave, I have few opportunities for vanity," Seta replied. "Removing the hair removes the last of these and leaves me naked and clean for my Lord Shiva.”  
“I’m a city administrator, not a cultural anthropologist, so it seems counter-intuitive to me,” Leonus mused. “You would think the successful religions would be those that encouraged indulgence in sexuality, the carnal pleasures of the flesh. There has been no shortage of such religions throughout history and they always failed to thrive. It has always been the religions that require suppression of sexual desire that grow like weeds.”  
Seta remained standing. Her opinion had not been asked and she had been given no other instructions. Until given something else to do, she watched her master’s hands.  
“And Lord Shiva has a chariot. Tell me about him devouring the world?” the romulan bureaucrat asked.

Seta did not look up. She spoke quietly, as if quoting scripture from memory: “Lord Shiva’s chariot shall appear in the sky. Its great wheels shall blot out the moons. Just one of its great wheels shall blot out the sun. And then Lord Shiva shall ride one of the great wheels of his chariot down unto Saketh. And in his hunger he shall devour the people of Saketh. Romulan and hemra alike he shall devour. Believer and non-believer he shall devour. And all their works. Again and again his wheel shall descend and he shall eat up all the animals that walk on the soil and those that crawl in it as well. All the forests and crops and grasses and all other growing things he shall eat and the very soil in which they grow. Again and again his wheel shall descend and he shall drink all the rivers and all the lakes and all the oceans and all the fish that swim therein. All the plants that grow at the bottoms of the waters and the soils at the bottoms of the waters, he shall eat those too. And at last, when all else he has taken, his wheel shall descend again and he shall suck up all the air so that all that is left of Saketh will be a great, barren rock and all that was upon Saketh will be in his belly.”

Leonus had watched his slave and listened in amusement. When she completed her recitation, he turned his head and looked at a side table. Among the items on the table was a brush. “I liked your hair, slave. But I like your nakedness more. And you no longer hide things since you converted to your new religion. Fetch the brush and tend to my hair. Since you no longer have yours to care for, you can care for mine.”  
Seta complied meekly, carefully playing out her master’s long, gray hair, then brushing it out, starting at the bottom.  
“Tell me why, slave. Why has your new religion made you a better servant to me?”  
“I no longer want things for myself. Everything I do, I do for my Lord Shiva. In brushing your hair, I am servicing my Lord Shiva.”  
“Serving him to what purpose?" asked Leonus. "You said he will devour believer and non-believer alike…”  
“We do not seek to avoid our shared doom" said Seta. "We are come to prepare the way for Shiva to devour this world. To make the world ready for him.”  
The elderly romulan bureaucrat was curious. “How did you come to convert to the Cult of Shiva?”  
“I am ashamed,” Seta replied. “I had the dream. Lord Shiva had the mogu mogo in his mouth. It writhed into and out of his mouth until the larvae exploded from his mouth and one of them landed in my belly and it lost its wings. As the mogu mogo made me into a nest for her young, she made me into a vessel for Lord Shiva.”  
“I have heard this dream described to me before. Why are you ashamed? I thought it was a sign of honor to have the dream…”  
Seta carefully laid out and divided Lenous’ tresses and brushed them out until they began to shine. “My brother did not need to have the dream to believe. My friends Theta and Set and Krana did not need to have the dream. They all became believers on the word of our priests. But I was a sceptic. I would not believe until Lord Shiva came to me in my dream. I am not important enough to be given the dream, but I would not believe until it was given.”  
Leonus stood up - a tall, elderly, distinguished romulan with long gray hair that cascaded halfway down his back and a neatly trimmed gray beard. “Maybe you are more important than you think.”  
Seta seemed to shrink from the thought. “That would be vanity, master. It would be vanity before my Lord Shiva.”  
Leonus put his wrinkled hand on his young slave’s bald scalp, stroked gently. “Your skin is dry. I want you to keep it oiled for me so that it may be pleasant for me to touch. That is not vanity. That is a requirement. You will do this.”  
“Yes, master.”  
“You will also describe your daily diet to my nutritionist. And you will take whatever nutritional supplements he supplies you. You will do this because it pleases me.”  
“I will do this.”   
“Go, prepare my clothing for me. I have appointments this afternoon.” The elderly romulan walked across the large room and sat on a bench in front of an instrument that resembled a large harp. He drew the instrument to him and began playing, not expertly, but competently. 

25.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Seta  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Hemra  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Safagreer, Saketh  
> Introduced: Episode 25.3  
> Age when introduced: 19  
> Role: Slave
> 
> Character: Leonus  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Romulan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Saf Island, Saketh  
> Introduced: Episode 25.3  
> Age when introduced: 161  
> Role: City Planner


	87. Episode 25.4 - I Dream of Shiva: Get Brack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The law firm of Sorek, Brack and Evens comes to the defense of Kenneth Dolphin when the Trill Government sues him and Star Fleet for the destruction of their interceptors...
> 
>  _“Do not directly address opposing counsel, Brack!” Justice Mreek roared, emphasizing her words by slamming her gavel into the block with a resounding clang... “I won’t tell you again – I’ll bounce your wrinkly ferengi ass out of my courtroom in less than 4.81 seconds if you engage in any more cross-talk!” Mreek gestured threateningly at the elderly ferengi lawyer with her titanium gavel..._  
>  _“Thank you, your honor,” said Dueex, only to receive an enraged glare from the extremely irritated tellerite justice._  
>  _“And you stick to the facts, Dueex! Any more hyperbole out of you and it will be your spotty ass bouncing around out there in the hall! Now continue…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> What could be more fun in a courtroom drama than a ferengi lawyer?? A tellerite judge, of course...
> 
> If you've been with this story all along, you might remember the law firm of Sorek, Brack and Evens from Episode 3. A vulcan, a ferengi and a human pass the New York Bar exam...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 4: Get Brack

25.4  
Get Brack

“Your honor, I…”  
“Shut up, Dolphin!”   
Captain Kenneth Dolphin turned in surprise as he was joined at the defendant’s table by a very large and quite elderly ferengi wearing an old fashioned 3-piece suit, complete with a necktie from the early 21st Century. The ferengi was leaning heavily on a black cane with a silver foot (actually shaped like a ferengi’s unshod foot) and topped by a large gold knob. He had an unusually powerful and sonorous voice that somehow still managed to convey a sneer when he spoke.

The trial was being held in the old Laren Manev Municipal Building. Trill courtrooms were similar to Federation courtrooms in layout except that the jury (of five) was hidden in a balcony overlooking the floor, as was the audience. Audience and jury could see and hear, but could not be seen or heard in the courtroom below.   
Typically there were two judges, but one of the judge’s chairs had been removed. Witness chairs were located in front of the judicial bench on the floor. The room was finished in dark blues and browns with heavy, high quality plastic surfaces.

“Counselor?” asked Tribunal Justice Cisl Mreek.  
“You know me. Tribunal Justice," the elderly ferengi replied. "Brack from the law firm of Sorek, Brack and Evens out of New York City. I am representing both Star Fleet and the Daystrom Institute. And if you will allow me just a moment with this defendant?” Brack gestured at Dolphin.  
The tellerite justice wrinkled her piggy nose and rolled her eyes. “Take your liberty while you can, Mr. Brack.”  
The elderly ferengi reached up and with an air of unquestioned dignity, flicked Captain Dolphin’s ear. “Were you seriously thinking of representing yourself?”   
“Ow!” Dolphin replied.  
“You’re an idiot, Dolphin," Brack sneered. "Star Fleet and Daystrom both need me to represent you as well, so tell the judge I am your lawyer.”  
“Actually, my first officer was going to represent me - he’s momentarily indisposed, something about the local mushrooms not agreeing with his unique digestive tract… But if you insist…” Dolphin said quietly.  
Brack turned back toward the judge. “And I’m representing this fool, too.”  
“Good,” Mreek grunted. “I have no patience for fools and sister golden hair looks like a fool standing there by himself. Now, you should know that the Daystrom Institute has not been named in this lawsuit. So why are you here representing DI?”  
“Within twenty minutes the plaintiff will add the Daystrom Institute to this lawsuit or you will dismiss the case out of hand.” Brack lightly tapped the silver foot of his cane on the floor - twice.  
“You are not delightful when you think you’re being mysterious, Mr. Brack. Now, Counselor Dueex,” Justice Mreek said, returning her attention to the plaintiff’s table, at which were sitting two female trills, both wearing the standard uniform of the trill military. “Let’s get back to it. We have seen the evidence. We have seen the telemetry. Just sum this up for us. Plain language, if you please. No one is going to be impressed with long legal terms…”

One of the trill military lawyers stood. “As we explained earlier, we are leaving the issue of Star Fleet’s and Captain Dolphin’s culpability for the destruction of our ground-based artillery units pending the outcome of the military inquest. Our issue at hand focuses strictly on the damage to 236 Trillian Master Force interceptors. This was done the very moment that Captain Dolphin’s strike force emerged from warp…”  
“Objection, your honor…”  
Tribunal Justice Cisl Mreek rolled her head back, the focused on the ancient ferengi at the defense table. “Can’t we get through the summation without interruption?”  
“Not as long as counsel is telling a deliberate mistruth,” snapped Brack. “I reviewed their telemetry, which they presented as evidence earlier today. The first ship in the task force to fire on the Trill Master Forces interceptors was the U.S.S. Fowler and the telemetry clearly shows the U.S.S. Fowler did not open fire until 4.81 seconds after the task force came out of warp. That is almost five whole seconds.”  
“What is your point, Brack?” growled the piggy-faced, tellerite justice.  
Brack counted on his fingers: “One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four one-thousand, five! That is at least two heartbeats. You took a breath during that time…”  
“Your honor!” Counselor Russell Dueex exclaimed. She ran her hand over her hair and pulled it back, her face blushing with anger, the spots along her neck almost glowing. “There is no difference between…”  
“For your slow, organic brain, no, the difference between ‘the very moment’ and almost five seconds seems like nothing," Brack sneered. "But to the artificial intelligence known as Hunter aboard the U.S.S. Hunter, it might as well be a century!”  
“Do not directly address opposing counsel, Brack!” Mreek roared, emphasizing her words by slamming her gavel into the block with a resounding clang. Mreek had been given a titanium gavel and block years ago because of her tendency to destroy gavels and shatter blocks, occasionally showering witnesses and others nearby with shrapnel. “I won’t tell you again – I’ll bounce your wrinkly ferengi ass out of my courtroom in less than 4.81 seconds if you engage in any more cross-talk!” Mreek gestured threateningly at the elderly ferengi lawyer with her titanium gavel. “You have been in my courtroom before. You know the rules!”  
“Thank you, your honor,” said Dueex, only to receive an enraged glare from the extremely irritated tellerite justice.  
“And you stick to the facts, Dueex! Any more hyperbole out of you and it will be your spotty ass bouncing around out there in the hall! Now continue…”  
The trill lawyer took a deep breath. “Beginning 4.81 seconds after emerging from warp, Captain Dolphin’s strike force fired on 236 interceptors that belong to the Trillian Master Forces, cutting through the hulls and destroying the fuel management, targeting and navigational computers of each unit. Cascade interference destroyed the phaser core on all but 4 of these ships, the inertial dampeners on 113 of them and the inertial dampening systems on 89 of them in an unprovoked attack with no notice provided in advance of hostilities.”  
“And you have already provided the damage estimate. Any other facts or narrative for us to consider?”  
Dueex took a deep breath, carefully considered, then said, “No, your honor.”  
“And here’s your dyspeptic bolian,” Justice Mreek said to Dolphin as Lt. Cmdr. Napoleon Boles, rather gingerly, entered the room carrying a large reader that was folded shut.

25.4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Brack  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Ferengi  
> Hometown/Homeworld: New York City, New York, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 25.4  
> Age when introduced: 81  
> Role: Lawyer
> 
> Character: Rightenant Russell Dueex  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Trill  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Laren Manev, Trillus Prime  
> Introduced: Episode 25.4  
> Age when introduced: 27  
> Role: Military Lawyer


	88. Episode 25.5 - I Dream of Shiva: Dream Weaver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Shiva (formerly Justice Minerva Irons) and her servant Remma are hard at work tending their new religion...
> 
>  _Remma’s new task was far harder and required far greater subtlety. She had a religion to cultivate. Teams of cultural anthropologists and newly-minted theologians were developing texts. She did not know why, but it was critical for the texts to have internal incoherencies and contradictions while agreeing on the larger dogma. Nothing seemed to fuel religious fervor like internecine blood-letting over dogmatically insignificant textual inconsistencies..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I kind of painted myself into a corner with this story line - I knew I needed Shiva the Devourer to prepare the people of Saketh for the great removal, but like Moses, the cult members could not be allowed to move with the planet...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 5: Dream Weaver

25.5  
Dream Weaver

Remma had never worked so hard in her life – nor had she ever been as productive or as satisfied with her work. Developing information, working large networks of agents – willing, purchased and coerced – she had done that for decades for the Imperial Romulan Senate. Nearly half of those assets were embedded in the old Romulan Star Empire and the Imperial Star Navy, and she was working them harder than ever for her new and far better resourced – employer wasn’t exactly the right word…   
Since the destruction of Romulus, resources had always been very tight for the Romulan Senate and Internal Information Control and Remma had learned to leverage her resources strategically. Shiva had what amounted to a bottomless well of resources: People, weapons, transportation, technology – and good old-fashioned hard currency in the form of endless ingots of gold-pressed latinum. And the resources seemed to come not just from the Federation, but from everywhere. Need to encourage the Imperial Navy to reposition a half-dozen warbirds? Nothing solved that problem like a quick raid by a fleet of well-armed klingon pirates…  
But the work was more satisfying as well. No more kidnapping and strategically murdering the children and relatives of Romulan Senators to further petty political squabbles. No more marshaling mindless cardassian mercenaries for pathetic attempts at land-grabs. Remma was well aware of and grimly amused by the cardassian debacle at Weythan – they wouldn’t have been such easy prey for Star Fleet if she had been directing them.  
Remma’s new task was far harder and required far greater subtlety. She had a religion to cultivate. Teams of cultural anthropologists and newly-minted theologians were developing texts. She did not know why, but it was critical for the texts to have internal incoherencies and contradictions while agreeing on the larger dogma. Nothing seemed to fuel religious fervor like internecine blood-letting over dogmatically insignificant textual inconsistencies. This meant hours and hours of reading to make sure the priests invented the holy scriptures wrong with the correct kinds of errors.   
And there was no rest for the wicked… Remma worked even harder in her sleep than when she was awake.

The first dream of the night was always the most important – when she and Shiva would appear together. Ru’us was a triumph – it had taken four dreams to cement him on the right path. Tonight’s dreamer was every bit as critical as Ru’us and a far more difficult individual to manage. Ru’us was the illiterate but charismatic shaman. His high priest had to be the opposite and needed as much guidance, if not more.  
Silently, following a well-established ritual, Remma prepared Shiva for bed, disrobing her, washing and brushing her hair – hair that once again had streaks of healthy black among the platinum white tresses, oiling her skin – skin that was beginning to look resilient and healthy again, and painting her face depending on whether Shiva would be appearing as male, female or more androgynously. Tonight, as most nights, Shiva would manifest as male.   
Remma curled up at Shiva’s feet, gently massaging restorative oils into each foot. She closed her eyes and began her nightly transformation into a snake. She slithered back up Shiva’s now masculine form and coiled herself around his shoulders – then launched. No crawling across the blazing black sands for Remma – unlike the other mogu mogo, she had retained her wings. She whipped through the sealed flap of the high priest’s tent and shed her wings at the moment she flew directly into his suddenly open mouth.  
The high priest did not yet know that he was a high priest. Shiva appeared behind him, but he could see Shiva standing above and behind him in a mirror. And behind Lord Shiva was his massive chariot with its four wheels. Shiva opened his hands above Philomo’s head and in Shiva’s hands appeared a crown which Shiva placed on Philomo’s head. At that moment Remma burst out from Philomo’s mouth in the form of words. Words with wings.  
Some of these words sprayed onto pages in several books that were set before Philomo. Others spread from him into the ears of others, mostly romulan, whereupon they would enter the listener’s stomach and issue as winged mogu mogo larvae from their mouths…

25.5


	89. Episode 25.6 - I Dream of Shiva: Terms and Conditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Dolphin explains the terms and conditions of the licensing agreement between the Daystrom Institute and the Trillian military... and the penalties for violating that license agreement...
> 
>  _Dolphin took a deep breath. “Under the terms of the Fourth Defense Technology Compatibility Treaty, as amended, Exhibit 5, Section 16, private-public partnership technology institutions affiliated with the Vulcan High Command, the Andorian Imperial Guard, the Bolian Web Service and Star Fleet, that license plug-in units to be used in defensive installations or weapon systems, must use compatible clauses in their license agreements..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Think for a moment of how much stuff in your computer does not belong to you. You even signed a license agreement to use this very platform - Archive of Our Own. 
> 
> **DID YOU ACTUALLY READ THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS???**  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 6: Terms and Conditions

25.6  
Terms and Conditions

“Your turn, Captain Dolphin,” said Brack. “Tell us what you did in preparation on your journey toward Trillus Prime specifically regarding the Trillian Master Forces’ adherence to their licensing agreement with the Daystrom Institute in regard to the interceptors in question.”  
Captain Kenneth Dolphin was in the witness chair located between the defendant’s and plaintiff’s tables, facing Justice Cisl Mreek. “I contacted Dee Dee Smith, one of the pilot attorneys at the Daystrom Institute, and had her send me a copy of the license agreement signed by the Trillian Senate President and the Trillian General Staff’s Chief Counsel for use of Daystrom Institute property, specifically the targeting, navigation and fuel regulation computers for their interceptors.”  
Brack opened the reader provided by Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles and thumbed a control. “Submitted into evidence as Defense Exhibit One."  
Justice Mreek spent a minute reviewing a copy of the file on the reader at her desk, then looked up and said, "Defense Exhibit accepted. You may continue, Captain Dolphin.”  
Dolphin took a breath. “Under the terms of this agreement, Section 39, Part A, Subsection 5, the Daystrom Institute may, at any time, analyze its property, namely the targeting, navigation and fuel regulation computers, for evidence of misuse, neglect or piracy under the terms of this agreement,” he continued. “Under the Star Fleet Charter, Section 20, Part D, Star Fleet is authorized to act as agent and protector for affiliated public-private partners, of which the Daystrom Institute is one of the most prominent. Hunter, that is the artificially intelligent federation citizen officially known as The United Space Ship Hunter, Navy-Daystrom Craft commission number 1201 and assigned as Master Warrant Officer to the U.S.S. Hunter, reviewed the license agreement with me and prepared the analysis protocols according to Section 414, Parts D, G and I, to analyze telemetry recorded from the property in question for any grounded interceptors left out in the open.”   
Captain Dolphin ran his fingers through his thick, blonde hair. “On coming out of warp, Hunter performed the analysis of each of the 236 computers in question and determined in each case that the licensing agreement had been violated. Having made that determination, Hunter strategically distributed targeting coordinates to all ships in the task force. As mentioned earlier, the U.S.S. Fowler was the first to open fire. All ships fired as soon as authorized by their individual captains and the license enforcement action was completed within 43 seconds, allowing the entire task force to break orbit having spent less than one minute in orbit of Trillus Prime.”  
Brack lightly tapped the silver foot of his cane (actually shaped like the life-sized unshod foot of a ferengi) against the floor. “Please be specific Captain. Which parts of the licensing agreement were violated by the Trillian Master Forces?”  
Dolphin ticked off points on his fingers. “Section 2, Part A, Subsection 1, regarding use of Daystrom Institute property in commission of a violation of the Federation Charter, specifically the Cultural Treasures subclause of Section 19.” Dolphin ticked a second finger: “Section 2, Part B, Subsection 1, regarding use of Daystrom Institute property in such a manner as to endanger the lives of Daystrom Institute employees or employees of any organization affiliated with the Daystrom Institute, specifically Star Fleet, in the person of Star Fleet Lieutenant Grorher.” He ticked a third finger: “Section 2, Part B, Subsection 2, regarding use of Daystrom Institute property in such a manner as to endanger the lives of Federation citizens or other persons not engaged in hostilities with the Federation, namely twelve bajoran pilots killed in action while helping to enforce the Cultural Treasures subclause of Section 19 of the Federation Charter.”   
Counselor Brack leaned back in his seat at the defense table as Dolphin ticked a fourth point on the pinky of his left hand and continued: “Section 2, Part B, Subsection 3, regarding use of Daystrom Institute property in such a manner as to endanger other property of the Daystrom Institute, specifically the targeting, navigation and fuel regulation computers of thirteen Bajoran Defense Force interceptors, all of which were destroyed by the combined fleet operation of the interceptors in question.” Dolphin dropped his hand to the arm of the witness chair. “There were 11 other minor violations that would also have led to revocation of the license agreement, as authorized under Section 437, Part A, and these have been highlighted in the evidence submitted, but there is no need to enumerate those at this time.”  
“Let’s be clear, Captain Dolphin,” said Brack. “In this action, you and your task force were acting as the agent of the Daystrom Institute as authorized under both the Star Fleet Charter and the Daystrom Institute’s licensing agreement signed by the Trill Senate and the Trill military?”  
“For the purposes of this action and this action alone, that is correct,” Dolphin confirmed.

The ancient ferengi attorney stood up, made a dramatic gesture with both hands and a formal bow to Justice Cisl Mreek, then turned to the trill attorneys and said. “Counsellors, your witness.”  
Mreek tapped her titanium gavel against the titanium block in irritation: “That’s my line, Brack…”

The trill military attorney, Russell Dueex, stood up, tugged on her hair. She took a step forward and turned toward Dolphin, then said, “I am curious Captain Dolphin, how did your strike force manage to fire from space at targets located on Trillus Prime for nearly a full standard minute and not get obliterated by defensive fire from the planetary defense satellite network?”  
“Mr. Brack,” asked Justice Mreek from her perch on the judges platform, “Do you care to object?”  
“Considering the question and answer simply provide more evidence of malfeasance on the part of the plaintiff,” mused Brack, “well, as the humans say, it’s their funeral…”  
“Answer the question, Captain,” said Mreek.

Dolphin took a deep breath. “Under the terms of the Fourth Defense Technology Compatibility Treaty, as amended, Exhibit 5, Section 16, private-public partnership technology institutions affiliated with the Vulcan High Command, the Andorian Imperial Guard, the Bolian Web Service and Star Fleet, that license plug-in units to be used in defensive installations or weapon systems, must use compatible clauses in their license agreements. Because the planetary defense satellite grid for Trillus Prime is licensed from the Avradega Satellite Defense Research Institute, which is affiliated with the Andorian Imperial Guard, I reached out to the lead counsel for the ASDRI, who agreed that a violation of the DI licensing agreement would, ipso facto, constitute a violation of the ASDRI license and when that violation was confirmed by Hunter, ASDRI immediately took the planetary defense grid offline.”

“Okay,” said Counselor Dueex, “We will stipulate that the computer systems that your strike force targeted and destroyed were Daystrom Institute property, but in that attack you and your strike force did severe damage to other systems as well as making the frames impossible to fly…”  
“Section 627, Part C, Subsection 5,” Dolphin responded: “The Daystrom Institute, its employees, representatives and agents are not responsible for collateral damages to property or persons arising from misuse of licensed property. This includes damages arising from enforcement activities as required under Section 400 of this agreement…”  
“And you provided no notice of this enforcement action…” Dueex objected.  
Dolphin rolled his eyes and looked pleadingly toward Justice Mreek.  
Brack sat impassively at the defendant’s table, arms folded, one eyebrow raised.  
“I agree, Goldilocks," Mreek said quietly to Dolphin. "May at any time... It was the very first thing you said.” The tellerite tribunal justice turned her full judicial ire on the trill lawyers. “For the love of your own planet,” Mreek thundered, “this licensing agreement has only 852 sections! Didn’t your people bother to read the thing before signing it???”  
Mreek drove her titanium gavel into the titanium block with the vigor of John Henry pounding rail spike, setting off sparks that might have left scorch marks on the historic plastic of the judicial table. Fortunately some alert preservationist had laid out a thin plastic coating to protect the table and nearby furniture against Mreek’s infamous judicial fury and her even more infamous sparking hammer.

“Case dismissed!!” she roared, “With prejudice!!”

25.6


	90. Episode 25.7 - I Dream of Shiva: Waterfront

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Pehisa and Heban - romulan detectives on the doomed planet Saketh - investigate another religiously inspired murder...
> 
>  _Pehisa gestured at the warehouse. “Central Information Processing identified the signature of the cargo transporter. That unit was installed in this building.” She and her partner both removed disruptor rifles from compartments on the sides of their hovermounts. They approached the building moving quickly, close and crouched low, covering each other with their rifles in a pattern that any police officer in any city on any planet would immediately recognize from their own training..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> No matter what city on what world, a cop is a cop is a cop. I had a little fun creating romulan cops...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 7: Waterfront

25.7  
Waterfront

Pehisa and her young partner, Heben, grimly inspected this morning’s harvest. Even here in Safagreer the streets were not entirely safe for either romulan or hemra. An elderly romulan bureaucrat and his young hemra slave had been murdered and their bodies splayed out in a ritual pattern. Heben had to turn his head and take several deep breaths before returning his gaze to the grisly scene.   
“Why do they do that…” Heben gestured vaguely at part of the savage display, “that thing with their fingers and toes… and their mouths?”

Pehisa had been hardened by her years as an assessor with the Safagreer Code Enforcement Agency. But she had to admit that in her nearly 60 years in the violent crimes unit, she had not seen so much effort put into killings. Passion, there was always passion in murder, but this was more like hedonistic indulgence – these murders suggested an almost sexual carnality.

“They cut off the fingers and toes and splay skin from them to create wings," said Senior Assessor Pehisa. "The wings of the mogu mogo larvae. And they lay out the dismembered digits in a pattern suggestive of mogu mogo larvae flying out of the mouths of their victims, just like fresh larvae…”  
Heben had to overcome his gag reflex again. This was his first assignment with the violent crimes unit and with less than an hour on the job, it was turning out to be a grim day. “And the…” he vaguely described a circle around the bodies, “…entrails…”  
“A new development. It represents the wheel in the sky that will come down to devour believer and non-believer alike. Notice that the slave is hairless?” asked Pehisa.  
“An ascetic,” Heben observed.  
“Which is almost certainly why she and her master were targeted. The self-described ‘Devout’ think of the ascetics as a perversion of the proper worship of Shiva. This is a blood sacrifice.”  
“Why kill her master?” asked Heben.  
“For traveling with an ascetic. He might have tried to protect her,” Pehisa answered. She shrugged, scratched her head, squatted down and looked more closely at the carnage. “All this carving and gutting wasn’t done here. Too clean. And too exposed. This was done somewhere else, probably nearby, and then transported here.” She pulled out a particle analyzer, got close to the remains and ran the analyzer over them. “Cargo transporter, I’m sending the signature in now for verification. We should head toward the piers. I’m betting we’re looking for a warehouse on the waterfront. The Devout believe fervently in blood sacrifice. This was a major kill for them. They probably sacrificed one of their own in celebration. We will find that body where these two were killed. I want this little band of savages. I want them under my lash.” Pehisa stood up and patted the whip coiled on her hip.

By this time other Code Enforcement units had arrived, bringing tools and slaves to clean up the remains. 

The two romulan detectives mounted a pair of machines that looked somewhat like motorcycles without wheels. They donned simple helmets with visors that had been attached to the sides of these machines, then each lifted off and followed the road, flying approximately a meter above the road.

“The Devout,” said Heben. The communicator in his helmet carried his voice to his partner. “Aren’t they pretty much savages from the farms? How did they gain access to a warehouse? Or a transporter? And how did they get into this city?”  
“You’re making assumptions from old information, Heben,” Pehisa replied. She pointed at a warehouse. Their machines were silent and they landed silently in front of the warehouse and removed their helmets.  
Pehisa gestured at the warehouse. “Central Information Processing identified the signature of the cargo transporter. That unit was installed in this building.” She and her partner both removed disruptor rifles from compartments on the sides of their hovermounts. They approached the building moving quickly, close and crouched low, covering each other with their rifles in a pattern that any police officer in any city on any planet would immediately recognize from their own training.

After a thorough search, they found no living persons in the building. They convened near the large cargo transporter unit. Nearby was a dead hemra, laid out the same as the victims they had looked at minutes previously.   
“Farmhand,” said Heben, looking at the body. “How did these savages get into this city?”  
“Central, this is Senior Assessor Pehisa. Who is the owner of the building we are currently standing in?”  
The voice on the communicator was a male with an accent commonly heard among the more educated hemra slaves: “Rotan, Roku and Gamble, Enrolled Collective.”  
“Those are our first suspects, Heben,” mused Pehisa. “The field hemra are getting into the city because they have made some converts among our fellow romulans.”  
“I can understand the savage hemra falling for this nonsense religion,” said Heben. “But how could a sophisticated, educated romulan fall for this… mind destroying garbage?”  
“There are always people who will believe what they want to believe, even if they are scientifically literate enough to know better. Especially if they’re frightened. And our people are very, very frightened these days, Heben.” The female detective keyed her communicator badge: “Central, mark our location and get a clean-up crew down here. We have another body. And I’m going to want to have a close look at these bodies once you get them into cold storage…”

25.7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Pehisa  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Romulan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Safagrette, Saketh  
> Introduced: Episode 25.7  
> Age when introduced: 112  
> Role: Violent Crimes Assessor, Safagreer Code Enforcement Agency
> 
> Character: Heben  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Romulan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Safagreer, Saketh  
> Introduced: Episode 25.7  
> Age when introduced: 26  
> Role: Violent Crimes Assessor, Safagreer Code Enforcement Agency


	91. Episode 25.8 - I Dream of Shiva: Johnny Be Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Director of Section 31 gives an assignment to his hand-picked protege...
> 
>  _Bashir smiled grimly. “Mr. Canada, you agreed to join Section 31 because of our unique ability to help you to identify threats to Trantor. Can you think of a greater threat than a fractious, evangelic, apocalyptic religion already responsible for the death of thousands in the scant few months it has been in existence?”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I realized that I had painted myself into a corner with this story line. But I also realized it wasn't my problem to solve. It's Julian's problem. And he, in turn, is delegating the problem to someone else...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 8: Johnny Be Good

25.8  
Johnny Be Good

“Hello Johnny. I’ve been waiting for you.” Chief Justice Julian Bashir’s voice retained a suave quality enhanced by his posh British accent. He emerged from the darkness. Despite the gauntness of his face, the careworn look around his eyes – an almost haunted look – he was still a remarkably handsome man. Part of this came from perfect posture. 

“I didn’t see any evidence of another ship…” started Johnny Canada, only to be startled nearly out of his skin when Bashir stepped forward and placed an almost emaciated hand on Canada’s shoulder. Canada was aware that Bashir was only a decade older than him, but the Chief Justice looked as if he had aged 50 years during that time.  
“Yes, I’m actually here. In the flesh. Don’t be so astounded!” Bashir smiled and some of the careworn lines on his face smoothed out and didn’t return. “And no, this isn’t dream comm stuff. Sometimes you really need to meet people face to face and make yourself vulnerable to them. It’s a human thing. Come on in, I’ve put on some tea.” Bashir turned and opened a door into a lighted room.  
“This looks familiar,” Canada said as he followed Bashir into a room with black walls, a black floor and ceiling and lighting focused on two overstuffed leather armchairs with a table between them. The chairs were facing a standing desk that contained a trio of monitors and two cameras on individual, automated stands.  
“It should,” Bashir responded. He served Canada a tea that smelled strongly of raspberry along with some sort of heavy seed cake. “This is the actual studio that then Governor Ivonovic used to start Subspace Radio Ivonovic. I had it moved out here. Can you believe he had this built in the same star system as the Colony of New Hope? He really wasn’t trying all that hard to not be found.”  
“That’s quite a move,” Canada commented. He sipped his tea appreciatively, raising his eyebrows at the taste, then tried the seed cake and made an approving noise. “We’re on the other side of the Alpha Quadrant from New Hope – almost to the edge of the galactic disc…”  
“You thought you would find the Dream Weaver out here, didn’t you?” Bashir asked around a mouthful of seed cake.  
“I take it I haven’t?”  
“I deliberately misled you into this meeting. I’m afraid if you want to disable the Dream Weaver, you have a bit of a journey ahead of you. It is located almost exactly on the opposite side of the galaxy from here – in the Delta Quadrant, near the galactic rim,” Bashir said. He took a seat in one of the overstuffed armchairs. “If you’re still thinking of taking a journey to the Delta Quadrant to shut down the Dream Weaver, you should plan on taking an army with you. Best an army of betazoids and vulcans - telepaths. It’s ocompan technology and the ocompans aren’t finished using it. They rely on it, actually. They won’t take kindly to any attempt on our part to disable it or even modify it.”

Johnny Canada sat back in his chair, eyes opened wide, just letting the repercussions of this information roll about in his mind. After nearly two full minutes, he drained his tea, then said, “But I thought this was something we invented…”

“Bit of a kick in the knickers, isn’t it?” Bashir smiled grimly. “Pathetically easy to get to and use, freely available to anyone who is capable of dreaming, and you can use it to give people nightmares so bad they literally die of fright in their sleep. You can see why Section 31 is quite keen on keeping it secret and providing misleading information to anyone who stumbles into it.”  
“Do the ocompans know we are able to access it?” Canada asked.  
“They know. They just don’t care. We’re just vermin to them, so if we use the thing to make our lives miserable or kill people off by the billions…” Bashir shrugged, made an amused noise… “Good riddance as far as they’re concerned.”  
“How… how does the thing work? It’s like, instantaneous communication back and forth across 100,000 light years…”  
Bashir shrugged again. “Not a clue. Did you hear the bit about it being ocompan technology? They are quantum telekinetic, so when they bother to build a machine, they build it from the subatomic particle up. I should point out to you, since you are so concerned about the existence of Section 31, that this is precisely the sort of threat Section 31 was created to protect the Federation against.”  
“How did you…” Canada started.  
“How did I find it?” Bashir asked. “I reviewed all of Admiral Janeway’s reports from the Delta Quadrant. A number of them didn’t make sense unless something like this thing existed, so I immediately classified the reports in question and went looking for the thing. I found it and I created a doorway into it. Until recently, everyone from the Alpha Quadrant who has been using the Dream Weaver has been using my doorway – But Shiva has created her own doorway now. You will need to monitor that – it’s getting to be a bit much for me to manage along with all the other threats to the quadrant that I am monitoring…”  
“You are giving me an assignment?” Canada was genuinely surprised.  
“Johnny, who else can I give it to?” Bashir asked. “Scrivax has descended into madness. Kenny Dolphin doesn’t sufficiently comprehend the threat to even seek me out about it. Minerva has transformed herself into some sort of god of destruction. There’s no one else in the organization who is even aware this technology exists. President Ivonovic knows about it, but he doesn’t know about Section 31 – yet…”  
“And you trust me to do this?”  
“Johnny, if you aren’t morally conflicted to the very core of your being by what we have to do, the kinds of decisions we have to make, you cannot be trusted to even know about Section 31, much less serve as an agent.” 

Julian Bashir slowly sipped his tea and watched the young police executive from Trantor as he mulled over what he had been hearing. Bashir took a deep breath. “Johnny, I’m the one who told Minerva that she would need to become the monster of Saketh and she seems to have buried herself in the part. I’m not certain how her new religion is going to convince the locals to pick up their entire biosphere from the ocean beds to the ozone layer and move to a whole new planet that is, at the moment, nothing but barren rock. Shiva has the mythology right – devouring one world to build a new one – but the practicality escapes me.”  
“So you want me to try to make her religion… practical?” Canada squinted at Bashir.  
“No,” Bashir replied. “That’s being worked out on two fronts – behind the scenes with Former President Rodriguez and Sela’s top advisor, Admiral Ekot, and on Saketh by Shiva and her religious maniacs. No, Johnny, my concern is that in her fervor to encourage the romulans to transplant Saketh, Shiva has opened Pandora’s Box – in a big way. One of your jobs is going to be stuffing all the demons back into it.”  
“And what makes you think I’ll even consider doing this – taking on this assignment from you?” Canada asked.  
“Because there is no one else to do it,” Bashir replied. “Saketh seems so far away – all the way on the other side of the Romulan Star Empire. But wait… Saketh will be coming to a location near you... Conveniently located in the Al Donovos and Al Jenova star systems, only a few weeks’ journey to your beloved Trantor at warp 5. Just imagine the sweet religion of Shiva set loose in a city of three billion people living literally right on top of one another.”   
Bashir smiled grimly. “Mr. Canada, you agreed to join Section 31 because of our unique ability to help you to identify threats to Trantor. Can you think of a greater threat than a fractious, evangelic, apocalyptic religion already responsible for the death of thousands in the scant few months it has been in existence?”

25.8


	92. Episode 25.9 - I Dream of Shiva: Bad Moon on the Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> On the night of the Bad Moon, a forest community on Saketh is overrun with religious zealots...
> 
>  _“They’ve been munching on eldergrass. They’re hallucinating…” said Di’ig. “And there’s more of them…” He gestured toward another dozen or so drummers emerging from the trees from all directions and heading toward the fire. “The fire and the drumming have them coming out of the woods. And this lot look crazier than the ones who are already here.”_  
>  _Davoga looked around at the insanity and realized it was just going to get worse. Much worse..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I wanted to provide a variety of communities on Saketh to give this world some depth...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 9: Bad Moon on the Rise

25.9  
Bad Moon on the Rise

Camp Brunun, located deep inside the Chicolo forest, was a unique community on Saketh. There was no slavery and romulans and hemra lived in mingled families. There were no hybrid children because that would have required genetic engineering, which was prohibited by law and custom. But in Camp Brunun, a few hundred romulans and hemra lived as equals. While trade in Chicolo nuts, acrans, wospern powder and other forest products provided a basic economy, the mingled population lived very close to nature with few possessions and little contact with the rest of Saketh or the Romulan Star Empire beyond their economically insignificant trade in local nuts, berries and medicinals.  
The relative peace of this community had recently become disturbed by sightings of increasing numbers of hairy ascetics in the nearby woods – a few romulan, but mostly hemra, who were indistinguishable from humans to all appearances.

Davoga was more or less charged with keeping the peace in Camp Brunun. She was the only representative of the empire anyone there knew – a forest manager who had Camp Brunun in her administrative district. She lived outside of town and her office was on the edge of town, near the ravine where villagers would daily go to pump water up from the river into the only water tower for miles around. There had been a solar-powered pump to get the water up, but it had been broken for nearly 30 years. All that needed to be done was for someone to vigorously pump for about 45 minutes, then the laws of siphonage would take over until the tower was full again.

“Di’ig, how is the forest this morning?” Davoga respected Di’ig as much as any romulan and more than any other hemra - largely because this hemra was as much a creature of the forest as the jakdar and the eargan they hunted. Di’ig was like the barkmoss - ever-present, witness to all and casually ignored, which allowed him to observe more.  
“Now we have eight of them,” Di’ig replied. “The hairy ones, not the shavers. But every bit as skinny.”  
“Eight?” asked Davoga, “Where are they holing up?”  
“Looks like they’re building some sort of temple on the big stump,” said Di’ig. “There are some shallow caves near there, but that’s rough living. They seem like a rough sort. Not the type to fit in around here.”  
Davoga sighed heavily. “Get everyone together, Di’ig. We can’t leave them sleeping in the mud. If nothing else, we’ll build them a hut.”  
“There’s going to be more of them,” said Di’ig. “More of them then there are of us. The fourth moon will be out tonight by itself. The bad moon. They’re going to make trouble.”  
“We’ll worry about that when it happens, Di’ig,” said Davoga. “Let’s just worry about the ones who are here for now.”

A few hours later there were nearly 20 of the hairy ascetics gathered in the center of Camp Brunun. Davoga arrived too late to stop someone from building a bonfire. To add to the misfortune, they had drums and they were all drumming. Badly. 

“PUT THAT FIRE OUT!” Davoga shouted.   
“You try,” one of the town elders retorted. The hairy drummers were dancing and whirling close to the fire. Dangerously close.  
“They’ve been munching on eldergrass. They’re hallucinating…” said Di’ig. “And there’s more of them…” He gestured toward another dozen or so drummers emerging from the trees from all directions and heading toward the fire. “The fire and the drumming have them coming out of the woods. And this lot look crazier than the ones who are already here.”  
Davoga looked around at the insanity and realized it was just going to get worse. Much worse. She drew Di’ig aside. “Get the word out. Have everyone draw water and keep buckets on their porches.”  
“You think they’re going to try to set fire to the woods?” asked Di’ig.  
“I think they’re coming here to set fire to themselves.” Davoga put her hand on Di’ig’s shoulder and turned him away from the spinning, dancing drummers. She drew her disrupter pistol and handed it to him - dialed the highest setting. “Any of them get into the fire - vaporize them. Be ready to order people around to put out fires. They’ll listen to you.”  
“What if they don’t? Come down to it, I’m just a hemra,” said Di’ig.  
Davoga removed the forest manager’s badge from her tunic and pinned it to Di’ig’s shirt. “Now you’re a hemra with a badge and a gun. Make them listen to you. I’m going to try to stop this from getting any worse.”  
“Without your disruptor?”  
“I have another disruptor, Di’ig. Look after these people. Unless I’m mistaken, it’s going to be a very bad night."  
  
Davoga retrieved her disruptor rifle and another disruptor pistol from her cabin, then disappeared into the woods. Di’ig managed to get a few of the villagers organized around fire control, but many of the others seemed either too frightened to remain outdoors or offended that a hemra was wearing a badge and barking orders at them. As many hemra as romulans were offended and as many romulans as hemra responded to Di’ig’s authority without question.  
It was less than a half-hour before the first of the whirling drummers threw herself into the fire, then came out, howling, clothes, hair and drum on fire and ran screaming for the woods. She only made it a few steps before Di’ig vaporized her with the disruptor.  
The biggest disadvantage to vaporizing a target, instead of just using deadly force, was that it required Di’ig to keep a bead on the target for several seconds. The drummers were soon setting themselves on fire too fast for that and soon fires were spreading into the woods. Villagers were responding, but buckets of water were not particularly effective for fire control. By the time ten whirling drummers had thrown themselves into the fire, it became evident to Di’ig that all the dancing drummers were intent on self-immolation and equally determined to ignite the forest with their burning bodies. He switched the disruptor from vaporize to deadly force and began shooting at all the drummers.  
The drummers realized quickly that Di’ig was interrupting their religious ceremony and charged him as a group. Disruptor fire came out the woods – Davoga emerged using her disrupter rifle with one hand and pistol with the other.It still took her and Di’ig several minutes to put down the last of the dancers.   
Putting out the small fires took hours, but without a wind they did not spread quickly and eventually they were all snuffed out. Di’ig and Davoga kept an eye to the woods, shooting down a few more hairy ascetics who straggled in from the tree line.

“Looks like we had about 50 of them,” said Di’ig as the first light of dawn exposed more and more of the carnage.   
“I must have put down at least another 30 in the woods,” said Davoga.  
“You didn’t just stun them?” asked Di’ig.  
“And go through this again?” Davoga rolled her head and stretched. “We have four major fires these Chicolonutheads started in other parts of the forest. I’m going to have to leave it to you to clean up the mess here. I’ll be working fire management to make sure none of those other fires jump the river...”

25.9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Davoga  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Romulan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Saf Island, Saketh  
> Introduced: Episode 25.9  
> Age when introduced: 77  
> Role: Chicolo Forest Manager
> 
> Character: Di'ig  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Hemra  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Camp Brunun, Saketh  
> Introduced: Episode 25.9  
> Age when introduced: 62  
> Role: Chicolo Resident


	93. Episode 25.10 - I Dream of Shiva: Sailing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Kenneth Dolphin is on another captain's boat - a sailboat on Bajor, sailing across the Sea of Valor. His daughters are with him - as are the brothers of his late friend, T'Lok Smith. 
> 
> _“She’s going to spit!” shouted Surrol Smith. “Do you have the shields up over the top of the mast?”_  
>  _“They’re coming up now!” Yoy shouted. The ocean was a little harder to focus on seen through the sailboat’s deflector shields and the noise from the waves was muted. As the deflector screens came up, the main sail, which had been billowed out, grew slack. The ship slowed slightly as the deflector screens took the wind out of its sails..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> One of the main points of Kenny's story arc is reconnecting with his estranged daughters. 
> 
> For some reason I really like putting Star Fleet personnel on a sailboat.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 10: Sailing

25.10  
Sailing

“It IS a b’ath rayl!” Vuk Smith called out.  
“Shields up!” called Captain Icu Coho. She began turning the wheel quickly back and forth, causing the small bajoran sailing vessel to rock back and forth in the water.  
“We have shields, Coho!” her husband and first mate, Icu Yoy called back.   
The yacht started shuddering as the deflector shields created a positive pressure of about an inch between the boat’s hull and the water, lifting the boat slightly.  
“So you actually enjoy this?” asked Captain Kenneth Dolphin. He was standing near the ship’s prow, an arm woven around the rail above the gunwale. “Seems a little dangerous to me…”  
“Says Captain Kirk Dolphin!” River Dolphin shouted, then started laughing. Starlight Dolphin, standing on the deck near her sister started laughing as well.   
Dr. Moon Sun Salek, the U.S.S. Hunter’s Director of Engineering put her hands over her mouth, trying not to laugh. Dr. Jazz Sam Sinder, Hunter’s Medical Director and Dr. Kunto Wekesa, one of the Hunter’s two new forensic specialists, made no effort to conceal their laughter. Lieutenant T’Lon, Hunter’s Director of Ground Operations, raised an eyebrow.

Captain Dolphin and these few members of his crew had joined his daughters and the half-vulcan Smith brothers on a biological expedition, sailing on one of the oceans of Bajor.

“Port side if you want to see it!” Vuk called.  
The ship leaned slightly to port as everyone on deck crowded to the port rail with the exception of Icu Yoy, who was operating the sailboat’s deflector shields. He adjusted the shields on the port side of the Pagh Kez’bal* to keep the ship righted.  
“She’s going to spit!” shouted Surrol Smith. “Do you have the shields up over the top of the mast?”  
“They’re coming up now!” Yoy shouted. The ocean was a little harder to focus on seen through the sailboat’s deflector shields and the noise from the waves was muted. As the deflector screens came up, the main sail, which had been billowed out, grew slack. The ship slowed slightly as the deflector screens took the wind out of its sails.  
A number of bajoran lungfish were leaping out of the ocean, coming closer and closer to the sailboat. Then a large animal that looked oddly like a cross between a large jellyfish and some sort of toothless shark with enormous twin backfins emerged from the water. A white, gelatinous mass ejected from the animal’s mouth and for a split second pasted several dozen lungfish to the side of the Pagh Kez’bal. A large amount of this expectorant splattered against the shields that extended above the gunwales, causing the spectators to jump back, their startle reactions fully engaged. Both the whitish goo and the lungfish hung for a moment, caught against the deflector screen, then slid neatly off the sailing vessel’s deflectors back into the ocean.

Surrol Smith and Dr. Jazz moved quickly to a panel just ahead of the pilot’s wheel. Vuk Smith was watching the creature with what appeared to be a large pair of binoculars, which he made constant adjustments to as the b’ath rayl slowly slipped back beneath the waves.  
“I’m bringing the shields down,” said Yoy, “You should be able to beam samples aboard now…” The main sail filled once again with wind as the deflectors came down.  
“Energizing,” said Surrol.   
“Gently,” said Dr. Jazz. “Just a tiny amount. We don’t want to harm the creature.”  
“Each sample is a cubic millimeter,” Surrol replied. “I’m bringing up its expectorant now - there’s almost a half kiloton.”  
“She just swam off,” Vuk shouted. With the boat’s shields down, the sound of the ocean was once again loud enough that everyone had to shout to be heard.   
Dr. Kunto Wekesa was watching readings in a tri-corder: “No traces of bleeding. All biometric readings nominal. Looks like she’s unharmed.”  
“We have samples of her organs and all of the expectorant in storage,” said Surrol. “Who knew the b’ath rayl were back in the Sea of Valor?”  
“There are reports of little ones in the Inland Sea,” said Captain Icu. “We should cross through the straits of Bar’trilla into the Inland Sea day after tomorrow. Hopefully you can get some samples there as well.”

A few hours later, everyone aboard the Pagh Kez’bal was seated around the captain’s table, inside the poop deck, which afforded views forward of the main deck and off the sides and the stern of the ship about two meters above water level. The captain and her mate both had control stations and monitors next to their seats at the table. The Pagh Kez’bal was traveling on autopilot. Large servo motors occasionally made fine adjustments to the positions of the sails.

“Mmmmm, lungfish hasperat…” said Dr. Moon, trying unsuccessfully to conceal her lack of enthusiasm.  
Lt. T’Lon, seated next to the Hunter’s Director of Engineering, lingered over her food. “Very… flavorful,” she said to Icu Yoy, who, as first mate, was also the Pagh Kez’bal’s cook.  
“Superb,” said Dr. Jazz. “Better than my mother’s hasperat. And so much better than replicated. Just the correct aroma.”  
“I think I’m in love,” said Captain Kenneth Dolphin.  
“With that red chick T’Lon was telling us about?” asked River. Vuk, seated next to her, turned and raised an eyebrow.  
“Bajoran springwine,” the captain replied. “I’ve never had it fresh before. Never understood what everybody was going on about.” He drained his glass.  
“More?” asked Captain Icu Coho.  
“Oh please yes!” enthused Dolphin.

“So I don’t get it, Dad,” said Starlight Dolphin. “They exonerate you at the inquest and then turn around and force you to take 30 days leave?”  
“Standard procedure. I fired on a friendly. No matter how well justified that action was, the inquest needs to go through all the evidence and I might be called on to testify again.” Dolphin took another drink of the springwine. “That said, they didn’t really have to twist the screws all that hard to get me to take shore leave,” he remarked.  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier than when they gave you that order,” said Dr. Moon.  
“I was happier when they allowed me to put the ship on Emergency Reserve status,” said Dolphin. “The entire crew needed the break.”  
“I think Counselor Brack was the happy one,” remarked T’Lon.  
“He seemed about as emotional as a brick throughout the entire inquest,” said Dolphin. “I found myself wondering if he was all ferengi or if he might be part vulcan…”  
“You didn’t see him out in the hall,” T’Lon rejoined. “He was… I think the best word to describe it is… snickering. It was really quite amusing. Especially during breaks in your testimony. He really seemed to enjoy your reasoning.”  
“I thought he was unhappy about the whole thing,” said Dolphin. “Something about his tombstone?”  
“I was there when he made that remark,” T’Lon replied. “He was snickering the entire time. He said, ‘I just helped transform Star Fleet into a police force. Just what the founders of the Federation never wanted. That will probably be my epitaph’.”  
Dr. Wekesa made an amused noise. “He also said, ‘But I’m ferengi, so what do I care?’ That big old ferengi never stopped laughing…”

_*Pagh Kez’bal (Bajoran – Medicine for the Soul)_

25.10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Icu Coho  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Bajoran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Bar'trilla, Bajor  
> Introduced: Episode 25.10  
> Age when introduced: 55  
> Role: Captain of the Pagh Kez'bal
> 
> Character: Icu Yoy  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Bajoran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Bar'trilla, Bajor  
> Introduced: Episode 25.10  
> Age when introduced: 51  
> Role: First Mate of the Pagh Kez'bal


	94. Episode 25.11 - I Dream of Shiva: Murder By Numbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Sela has a prophetic dream about an amazing race of people - a people she must save from extinction...
> 
>  _Sela sat bolt upright in her bed. Her nightgown was soaked with sweat. And maybe a little pee..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> If primates had not produced such an overwhelming civilization, what other species might have filled the intelligence/technology niche? Or might yet, assuming we doom ourselves...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 11: Murder By Numbers

25.11  
Murder by Numbers

Sela, the half romulan / half human Supreme Commander of the Romulan Star Navy, found herself seated in an overstuffed leather armchair, still wearing her nightgown. Lights blared down on her, but behind the lights she could just make out the face of the traitor Remma. She turned her head quickly to her right and saw Shiva – the person that had evolved from Justice Minerva Irons – sitting in an identical overstuffed leather chair.   
Shiva’s looks had changed – her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. The careworn wrinkles that had characterized Irons’ face in her last few months were gone, but so was something about her eyes. The warmth was gone. Shiva’s eyes were sunken, barely visible in their sockets. The eyes of a predator. But the most striking transformation was her hair.  
Raven black or later iron gray, Justice Irons had always kept her hair shaved on the left side of her head to reveal the subtle spots of her trill ancestry and the hair on her right side had always fallen straight and fine. Now most of her hair was platinum blonde with an increasing number of black stripes and it radiated out from her head in all directions, framing her face like a sparking, electric halo.  
Sela was already tired of this. She had no idea how she had gotten here, and no idea when she could expect help to arrive, but it was time to make her intense displeasure known. She opened her mouth and uttered her complaint firmly, succinctly, eloquently and most of all, definitively:

SQUAWK!!!

Sela shook her beak and hopped around on the overstuffed armchair in frustration, doing some damage to the leather upholstery with her considerable and rather sharp talons. She saw Remma waving “goodbye” to her and then she began to plummet, nose first through the clouds. The ground rushed up at her.

“You need to spread your wings and your tail feathers,” said Shiva, who had also now taken the form of a large bird with mottled grey and black feathers. The only other thing, aside from this coloration, that distinguished the two women from terrestrial crows was their size – easily four times the size of a crow, making them far larger than any flight-capable terrestrial bird – almost the size of ostriches.   
Suddenly, the air kicked up under Sela’s wings, carrying her skyward. In spite of her confusion, astonishment and anger about being kidnapped and somehow transformed into a large bird, she found herself reveling in the feeling of flight under her own power. To FLY!!!!

“Listen,” she heard Shiva squawking to her nearby.  
Hundreds of voices – a babel of conversations – thousands of voices. Sela could make out bits of gossip about who was courting whom, whether or not a certain clutch belonged to a certain male (who seemed overly proud of them…), when the auditions for the upcoming drama would be, a freewheeling discussion about when to manure a freshly planted field… 

“What is this?” Sela squawked.  
“I knew there was an undiscovered race of sentients deep inside the Romulan Star Empire,” squawked Shiva, flying nearby. “In your language, you could call them the Nikamsitiri*. A race who could never develop space travel, much less faster than light travel. A people doomed to die on their own planet from the approaching gamma wavefront. And I know for the survival of your people that you must rescue these people and bring them into your service. Not as slaves, but as partners. Fellow warriors. Police.  
“You must save these people, Sela. Save them and teach them your language. The survival of your people depends on it. There are almost 11 billion of them. It will take a massive effort on your part, but your people will need every one of them.”  
“Aren’t you violating the Prime Directive by telling me to do this?” Sela asked.  
“In so many ways,” Shiva reflected. “But I am whole. I am no longer prey to the doubts of a dithering old woman. I see with eyes unclouded and mind unshackled. I am no longer a creature of the Federation. The Prime Directive – to even think of it being relevant under this sentence of mass death – the gamma wavefront…” Shiva made an amused squawk. “The Prime Directive is for those who fear to be gods. I have evolved far beyond that fear.”  
“So you think yourself a god, now?” Sela squawked.  
“There, just below us, see them now? How can you think that I am not a god, Sela? Behold the gift I give beyond the dreams of power and avarice! See these magnificent people I give to you.”

Just below Sela and Shiva was a massive flock – hundreds of thousands of birds – mottled gray and black birds - most about twice the size of a crow - some as large as an ostrich - weaving in and out of the treetops of a great forest in an incomprehensible formation of close flight just above the tops of trees that themselves grew out of the waters of a freshwater ocean to tower hundreds of feet above the waves. Some birds were fishing. Some were gathering nuts. Others were planting seeds in sections of open ground further up the shoreline.  
And all of them were talking… squawking… communicating… a vast city of enormous crows…

“You have 14 years,” squawked Shiva. “Then the gamma wavefront will reach this planet and all of this will die. You have to find a way to save 11 billion flying people and make them part of your own civilization. You are going to need every single one of them. They are the only ones who can save you.”  
“Save me from what?” squawked Sela. She turned to see that Shiva had swollen to nearly a hundred times Sela’s size. 

“FROM ME!!!” the monstrous Shiva bellowed, then she opened her beak wide and swallowed Sela into darkness.

Sela sat bolt upright in her bed. Her nightgown was soaked with sweat. And maybe a little pee. In her mind was a set of spatial coordinates. Coordinates for a solar system located 14 light years above the coming gamma wavefront…

* Nikamsitiri - (Romulan: Giant Flying Genius)

25.11


	95. Episode 25.12 - I Dream of Shiva: Dr. Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Lt. Grorher, the new Director of Flight Operations for the U.S.S. Hunter, takes his first shift in command and meets a stranger from Hunter's past...
> 
>  _Grorher sniffed. Ensign Jones’ pheromones had suddenly changed - a smell of fear and a new scent. “What is it, Ike?” he rumbled as he turned the chair, only to see a new person on the bridge - a small, balding, dark-skinned young man wearing a leather jacket with an expedition helmet slung over his shoulder by a lanyard._  
>  _“Where is Captain Irons?” the intruder asked..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The moment I first envisioned Lt. Grorher - the beastly Star Fleet pilot with reddish gold fur - I knew he had to find a place on the Hunter...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 25: I Dream of Shiva  
Scene 12: Dr. Who?

25.12  
Dr. Who?

Haanti Peda ran her fingers through luxuriant reddish gold fur and felt deliciously naughty. Bajorans, like humans and denobulans, were far more liberal about interspecies relationships than most humanoid species. But Peda wasn’t sure the creature lying next to her exactly qualified as humanoid… and he had been with her sister before her, which clearly pushed this encounter much further into taboo territory.  
She took a breath, rubbed her face against the strong-smelling fur and gazed out the window, where she could see about half of the U.S.S. Hunter – the port half – which was docked to the outer ring of the Deep Space 9 space station. Unlike other Star Fleet ships, it was not a comforting or inspiring sight. Star Fleet was famous for ship designs that were uniquely beautiful and fast.   
By all accounts, the U.S.S. Hunter was far, far faster than any other known design, but it was far from beautiful. Dark, squat, businesslike – if anything, the Hunter was intimidating, even if it was one of the smallest deep space vessels in production. Peda couldn’t look at it too long. She knew the Federation attack on Trillus Prime was well justified, but she couldn’t stop imagining a swarm of these predatory looking little black ships appearing in the skies over Bajor and raining down terror the way they had at Trillus Prime.

And now her beastly lover was assigned as a senior officer on that ship. But this wasn’t a love affair. More like a three- or four-night stand.

Peda could tell that Grorher was awake. “Do you think she would have minded?”  
“You staying in her quarters?” rumbled Lt. Grorher. “Why would she? They’re still assigned to her until the commemoration and you need to be sure to remove all of her things and direct them to their proper destinations…”  
Peda laughed and lightly twined some of Grorher’s chest fur. “Not me being in her room. What I’ve been doing in her room…”  
“Making a mess? Eating food you dropped on the floor. Yeah – that might have bothered her a bit…”  
“It was still in the plate!”  
“It isn’t my taboo,” the furry pilot rumbled. “I know Irda never ate from a plate that dropped on the floor…”  
“I’m sure she never dropped a plate on the floor in the first place,” Peda pouted.  
“Not that I ever saw." Grorher rolled over to face the sister of his deceased lover. "Peda, I knew your sister for almost a year. We were very close. I miss her and you have been a great comfort to me. Which I am certain that she would find comforting. I have visited the families of all of my wing, including your parents. Twelve grieving families. And now, because of the inquest, I’m stuck in bajoran space for another 20 days, at least. I think Irda would be happy that you’re here with me.” Grorher rolled out of bed and shuffled off toward the shower.  
Peda found herself moping for the few minutes that it took the furry lieutenant to clean himself. When he reappeared, he was wearing the solid black Star Fleet Judge Advocate General uniform with yellow piping around the collar and cuffs. With his almost golden fur and long blonde hair, it created a striking effect. The word handsome simply did not apply to Grorher in any coherent way, but he did have very much the look of a hero.

Lt. Grorher was brushing his facial fur. “How about a tour of the U.S.S. Hunter?”  
“Can you get me clearance?” Peda asked.  
“Considering that I’m the senior officer on duty today… chances are good…”

A few hours after having escorted Peda through those parts of the U.S.S. Hunter that were cleared for civilian access, and having returned with her to the Promenade on DS9 for lunch, Lt. Grorher was back on the bridge of the Hunter. With the ship on Emergency Reserve status, only four stations were required to be staffed. Midshipman Carlos Datsun was on station in Transporter Room 1. Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars was pacing around Engineering by himself.   
And along with the Hunter’s new Director of Flight Operations, Lt. Grorher, in the captain’s chair, Ensign Eykirros Jones, who was part human and part kitarran, was standing watch at the tactical/communication station on the bridge. Jones looked more kitarran than human, with the telltale crenellations on her forehead that mimicked the crenellations of her enlarged neo-cortex. The only indication of her human ancestry was the light caramel color of her skin from her African American heritage. Like most kitarrans, Ensign Jones was very slight of build.

Grorher sniffed. Ensign Jones’ pheromones had suddenly changed - a smell of fear and a new scent. “What is it, Ike?” he rumbled as he turned the chair, only to see a new person on the bridge - a small, balding, dark-skinned young man wearing a leather jacket with an expedition helmet slung over his shoulder by a lanyard.  
“Where is Captain Irons?” the intruder asked. He had a distinctly South American accent.  
Lt. Grorher rose from the captain’s chair. He noticed that the intruder was armed and held his left hand up, made a gentle patting gesture toward Ensign Jones. “Easy, Ike.”  
Eykirros Jones relaxed a little, but she kept her hand on the phaser on her belt.  
“I’m sorry,” Grorher rumbled. “I don’t know you and I’ve never heard of Captain Irons. Captain Dolphin is taking shore leave on Bajor.”  
Jones tensed slightly as the stranger reached to his neck and tugged gently on a chain, removing a small wallet from underneath his shirt. He opened the wallet.   
“Rear Admiral Sarekson Carrera, Director of Star Fleet Temporal Command,” he said. “And you are, Lieutenant…”  
“Lieutenant Grorher, Director of Flight Operations for this vessel. I am currently the ranking officer onboard.”  
“You’re Doctor Carrera?” asked Jones.  
Grorher turned and looked at her: “Doctor who?”  
“I’m sorry sir, you’ve not been here long. Doctor Carrera invented this class of ship. He was the Engineering Director before Doctor Moon.” Jones turned her attention toward Carrera. “Sir, Justice Irons retired from Star Fleet and from the Tribunal - or something… I’m not really sure. I think the captain would like to know you’re here…”  
At that moment the ship’s interactive avatar appeared on the bridge. “Sarekson!” The elderly looking, pudgy avatar stepped around the new (and furry) flight director and embraced Carrera.  
“And…” Carrera was surprised by the hologram’s evident emotion. After a confused moment, he patted Hunter’s back, then hugged back. “And how have you held up, Hunter?”  
Hunter stepped back. “We lost Pep and Tauk. There are a lot of new people around here,” said Hunter. “I’m reasonably sure Kenny will want to see you.”

“That’s what everybody says, but nobody seems to be calling him yet,” Carrera observed…

25 – I Dream of Shiva

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Haanti Peda  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Bajoran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Loftlun, Bajor  
> Introduced: Episode 25.12  
> Age when introduced: 19  
> Role: Younger sister to Haanti Irda
> 
> Character: Haanti Irda  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Bajoran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Loftlun, Bajor  
> Introduced: Episode 25.12  
> Age when introduced: Dead  
> Role: Fighter Pilot, Bajoran Defense Force


	96. Episode 26.1 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Medicine for the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Dr. Carrera spends 3 weeks aboard a sail boat on the seas of Bajor with Captain Dolphin and his daughters.
> 
>  _“Focus is locus… When you realize our universe is actually one dimensional and consists exclusively of information…” Carrera started, only to elicit groans from nearly everyone in the room._  
>  _Dolphin twisted his fingers in his ears, shaking his head, his eyes squeezed shut. “No, no, no no no, the big talking monkey didn’t need to hear that…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I wanted to give the reader a little taste of the bizarre understanding of physics that allows the Traveler (Alien Bob), Wesley (Old Man Crusher), The Doctor (Dr. Prometheus) and Dr. Carrera to travel across space and time at will using only their minds.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 1: Medicine for the Soul

26.1  
Medicine for the Soul

Rear Admiral Sarekson Carrera spent nearly three weeks aboard the Pagh Kez’bal* with Captain Kenneth Dolphin and his daughters and the half-vulcan Smith brothers. The name of the bajoran sailing vessel meant “Medicine for the Soul” and it was well named. Carrera seriously needed the vacation. And he was surprised at how important his friendship with Dolphin had become to him. Most of their conversations were about sailing and the water and the tremendous changes that had happened on the U.S.S. Hunter since Carrera had left following what the crew had dubbed the Carrera Paradox.   
The serious discussion took place below decks in a bunk Carrera was sharing with Captain Dolphin, Dr. Jazz, Dr. Moon and T’Lon. It was the evening before their final day aboard the bajoran sailing vessel. The Inland Sea had experienced heavy weather and all hands had been needed to tend the sails and keep the ship battened down. The weather had finally calmed late in the evening and the Hunter’s crew were enjoying the good tired that came from a day of hard but interesting labor. For Dr. Carrera, the sensation of being surrounded by friends was almost overwhelming. He couldn’t recall ever having been this happy.

“I remember a streak of gray in your hair, about the temples.” Carrera fluffed the small remaining amount of his own hair. Over the past year he had gone almost completely bald. “I know how you feel about genetic modification - surely you’re not dying your hair?”  
Dolphin laughed. “Actually, I have Sam to thank for this. Bajoran soaproot. Tastes horrible, but it does all sorts of wonderful things for the digestion and as a side benefit, it counteracts the metabolic changes that cause human hair to turn gray. Minerva apparently ate the stuff by the bushel, which explains why her hair didn’t turn gray until she was nearly 160. Speaking of hair, though…” Dolphin fluffed the thick, corn blonde curls at the top of his head.  
Carrera responded with a rueful grin. “A gift from my mother’s side of the family. Most of the men on her side were completely bald by age 30. It looks like I’m more than a little ahead of schedule. Sam, I don’t suppose soaproot would work for that?”  
Dr. Jazz came up with an equally rueful grin. “No such luck. Only gray hair and that only in humans. Minerva is mostly human - part betazoid, part trill, and part vulcan, which accounts for her long life. If she had been part bajoran, the soaproot wouldn’t have helped with the gray hair.”

“So, as I understand it, you want to hitch a ride with us to Rising Sun?” Dolphin asked.  
“I had Mlady and Dr. Tali Shae reassigned to Star Fleet Temporal under my command. They will arrive at Deep Space 9 tomorrow,” said Carrera. I know you’re departing the next day for Rising Sun. I have a vessel coming in that I’d like us to rendezvous with just outside that system.”  
“A vessel?” asked Dr. Moon.  
“Well… technically… no,” said Carrera, earning a laugh from most in the room and a raised eyebrow from T’Lon.

“And there’s the Sarekson Carrera we all remember…” teased Dr. Moon.

Carrara laughed. “Well, she doesn’t like being referred to as a ship. I suppose for the same reason you wouldn’t like being referred to as a bicycle. Or at least so I’m told. Apparently, over the past 300 years, I visited her a number of times on her way here from another galaxy, but I haven’t done that yet.”  
Dr. Moon closed her eyes and started pressing her fingers gently against her own temples. Dr. Jazz grimaced and groaned. Kenny Dolphin laced his fingers in his hair and stretched. “I knew we were going to get some of this ‘I went into the past, but I haven’t done it yet, so it’s something I must be doing later in the future’ sort of stuff…”  
“You should hear his explanation of how he travels a million light years or goes a billion years into the past with just a thought,” said Moon. “Like turning your head and looking at another part of the room, but with math…”  
“Focus is locus… When you realize our universe is actually one dimensional and consists exclusively of information…” Carrera started, only to elicit groans from nearly everyone in the room.  
Dolphin twisted his fingers in his ears, shaking his head, his eyes squeezed shut. “No, no, no no no, the big talking monkey didn’t need to hear that…”   
Carrera laughed merrily. Something about seeing Captain Dolphin clowning around struck him funny and he doubled over, laughing hard until he couldn’t breathe.  
“It wasn’t THAT funny,” Moon said.  
“Oh yes it was,” said Dolphin, puffing himself up with mock superiority.  
“Just breathe, Sarekson, just breathe” said Jazz, helping Carrera to sit down on a hammock. The Director of Star Fleet Temporal Command was light headed, still helpless with laughter.  
“This human has evidently been under a great amount of stress recently,” T’Lon observed, dryly.  
“Oh no, don’t you start with that vulcan comedian routine,” said Carrera. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “But you’re right. I have been carrying the Alpha Quadrant around on my shoulders. I visited the borg in the Beta Quadrant several times. They’re not in good shape. Civil war… political factions… attacks by some of the species they had previously terrorized… Where there were once more than 900 billion borg who thought and acted as one, I estimate there are no more than 30 billion left, probably far less. And I have also spent time studying the hulk.”

Carrera got up. The seriousness in his voice caught everyone’s attention. “900 billion borg working as one over the next 2,000 years would easily be enough to repair the hulk and protect the Alpha Quadrant from the coming gamma wave front. But only 30 billion borg, riven by civil strife and under threat by species they previously preyed on… That’s nowhere near enough to repair the machine over a period of 4,000 years, which is less than the time we have. I’m going to bring them back anyway - all of them. Not just the Beta Quadrant borg – all the borg, everywhere in the galaxy. That might net us 50 or 60 billion if we’re lucky. We’ll think of something…” Carrera sat down and took a deep breath, deliberately calming himself. “We have to…”

_*Pagh Kez’bal (Bajoran – Medicine for the Soul)_

26.1


	97. Episode 26 - Rain Over Rising Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Terrorists are planning a retribution attack on the colony of Rising Sun... and the U.S.S. Hunter has been sent to investigate...
> 
>  _“The science of ethics seeks to tame both extremes by emphasizing corporate responsibility for human welfare equivalently with the individual’s responsibility for the consequences of their actions..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> There is a big gulf between the end of this episode and the beginning of the next one, a missing 2 episodes that I might yet write. I just have no ideas for those adventures... Suggestions?  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
**Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun

Episode 26 – Rain Over Rising Sun

_“There is a pendulum in human culture that has historically swung between poles of individual freedom and community responsibility. At one extreme lurks the scourge of Social Darwinism. At the other awaits the prison of social conformity. The former ennobles the greed of aristocrats and oligarchs and justifies the privation they inflict on the bulk of humanity. The latter ennobles the hubris of priesthoods and justifies their enforcement of dogma that seeks to enslave the bulk of humanity.  
_ _“The science of ethics seeks to tame both extremes by emphasizing corporate responsibility for human welfare equivalently with the individual’s responsibility for the consequences of their actions. It is in this tension between these polarizing ethical ideologies that humanity can find freedom from the tyrannies of corruption and authoritarianism.”_

 _Dr. Kenny Dolphin –_ _Fundamentals of Federation Ethics_

Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter)

Captain Kenneth Dolphin  
Chief Executive Officer – Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles  
Chief Operations Officer - Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor

  
Medical Director – Lt. Jazz Sam Sinder  
Asst. Medical Director – 2nd Lt. Gabriella Griff  
Ensign Sif  
Forensic Specialist - Midshipman Kunto Wekesa (nickname Kit)  
Forensic Specialist – Midshipman Raaven  
Emergency Medical Hologram - Dr. Raj  
Tactical Medical Hologram - Dr. Kim  
.  
Director of Flight Operations – Lt. Grorher  
Asst. Flight Dir. - 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks  
Navigator Johanna Imex  
Navigator Auqa’rh’lth (pronounced “Aka-ruh-ulth”. In the klingon language, apostrophes indicate glottal stops.)  
Ensign Chelna Zusa  
Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate)  
Flight Specialist Dih Terri  
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar  
Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper  
.  
Director of Ground Operations - Lt. T’Lon  
Asst. Ground Ops Dir. - 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves  
Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace  
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina)  
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki  
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi  
Ensign Eykirros Jones (nickname is Ike Jones)  
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo  
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment)  
.  
Director of Engineering - Lt. Moon Sun Salek  
Asst. Engineering Dir. - 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui  
Midshipman Carlos Datsun  
Transporter Engineer Dragomut  
Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars  
Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas  
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs  
Flight Engineer Tomos  
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon


	98. Episode 26.2 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Transplanting Saketh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Sela, Supreme Commander of the Romulan Star Navy (and the Romulan Star Empire) meets with the leaders of the United Federation of Planets...
> 
>  _Sela took her place at the head of the table, next to President Ivonovic._  
>  _“I will be blunt. Saketh feeds one third of the Romulan Star Empire. What guarantee does the Federation offer - what backup plan is in place - in case this effort fails and in our efforts we only destroy Saketh without being able to replant it?”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I needed to expose a little of both the science and the politics around the transplanting of Saketh...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 2: Transplanting Saketh

26.2  
Transplanting Saketh

The negotiations for the transplantation of Saketh’s biosphere from the Romulan Empire onto three planets currently within the Federation had started on Vulcan. Admiral Ekot and former President Maria Rodriguez were leading a large, multidisciplinary team consisting mostly of scientists. Oddly, the lead scientists for both the Federation and the Romulan Empire were twins - Kallasa and Carauka were identical twins, half romulan and half vulcan. Lin Chun Hu and Lin Chun Xi, descendants of the legendary Lin Ling Liu, were also identical twins - half human and half vulcan.  
For Ekot and Rodriguez, the negotiations boiled down to making certain that Kallasa and Carauka and the Lin brothers did not let their optimism get the better of them. Removing the biosphere from Saketh in such a way as to not kill the majority of it would be a nightmarishly difficult task. Painting that biosphere onto three different planets would be unbelievably complicated. The unprecedented challenge of this project was drawing scientists from all over the Romulan Star Empire, the Federation, the Cardassian Union… rumors of the plan had reached the Gamma quadrant and more than a hundred scientists from races no one had ever heard of before had traveled through the wormhole tens of thousands of light years from their homes to participate.  
Ekot was not surprised to find Maria Rodriguez charming. She was a veteran politician and had charmed her way to the top of the Federation bureaucracy. He found himself admiring her breadth and depth of knowledge and her ability to quickly master complex information. She was asking the top experts in planetary ecology the right questions, carefully drawing them into deeper consideration, helping them focus on more promising avenues of research while keeping other doors open. 

Today, Supreme Commander Sela’s battlegod, the I.R.W. Bestia, was in the Vulcan system as was the mammoth U.S.S. Ark. This meeting was being held in the main hold of Ark Saucer Section 1. It was an immense space - so large that a romulan warbird could be parked in it and a second warbird stacked on top. Enough conference tables to fill a ballroom and hundreds of chairs were completely lost in the midst of this vast space. The guests were shuttled in using a number of Star Fleet shuttles and several Romulan Star Navy landers. More than thirty such craft were parked around the conference tables. These small craft were entirely dwarfed by the space they were landed in the center of. 

“We’re meeting in my space,” said President Emory Ivonovic. “But while the Federation will commit enormous resources to this effort, we know that the true risk will be borne by the Romulan Star Empire. Therefore it is only fitting this meeting be chaired and guided by those who have the most to lose. As a gesture of good faith and to ensure peace among our people, Supreme Commander Sela - this is your meeting…”  
Sela took her place at the head of the table, next to President Ivonovic.   
“I will be blunt. Saketh feeds one third of the Romulan Star Empire. What guarantee does the Federation offer - what backup plan is in place - in case this effort fails and in our efforts we only destroy Saketh without being able to replant it?”  
“As enormous as this space we are gathered in is,” said President Ivonovic, “it is only large enough to hold a large mountain lake and its shoreline. This saucer section has additional cargo space designed to hold millions of tons of soil, water, and provide environments for wildlife as well as the capacity to compress and carry a significant amount of atmosphere. It is one of four saucer sections on the U.S.S. Ark. The engineering hull has room for a small ocean. This ship’s sister ship, the U.S.S. Atlas, should launch within the next few weeks. The Federation is sponsoring an additional two Atlas class planetary rescue ships, the U.S.S. Mohammad and the U.S.S. Delivery, both to launch within the year. Even with all four ships working at capacity, the rescue of Saketh will take decades…”  
An elderly vulcan seated nearby rose, drawing everyone’s attention. President Ivonovic fell silent. Sela looked at the elderly vulcan for a moment, then said, “Speak.”  
“I am Messick. I speak for Premiere Saoron. With the assistance of the Andorian Empire, the Vulcan High Command will construct a space station in orbit of Al Donovos III. This space station will be a gift to the Romulan Star Empire and will be designed to provide protected interior space for reconstruction of living environments from Saketh. Each living environment will be transplanted onto the surface of Al D. III with a protective dome. As long as the protective domes remain in place, each living environment will be safe. But they will be designed to be interconnected. The Vulcan High Command, in coordination with the Andorian and Romulan empires, will maintain these environments encapsulated for as long as is necessary until such time comes when the atmosphere of Al D. III can be merged safely with the living transplanted atmosphere of Saketh.  
Emperor Sin IV, who was seated next to Messick, stood. Sela found herself saying, “Emperor?”  
“Unfortunately, our friend and prisoner, Premiere Saoron, is no longer healthy enough for space travel. It is appropriate that the High Council’s preferred successor should speak for the High Command. The Andorian Empire will support the Al D. III project with resources and personnel as needed, Supreme Commander.”  
A large, elderly bolian, seated across from the vulcan and andorian leaders, stood.   
“My apologies,” said Sela, “I am not familiar with all of the dignitaries of the Federation…”  
Federation President Emory Ivonovic leaned over and whispered in her ear. A few of Sela’s guards tensed at the sight of a human so close to their Supreme Commander. Decades of protecting her as she clawed her way to the top of the Romulan Navy and firmly seized control of the empire had ill prepared them for the casual intimacy or free-wheeling, chaotic conferencing that characterized Federation affairs.  
“Again, my apologies, Web Executive Planning Commissioner Boles, please speak,” said Sela.  
“Thank you, Supreme Commander,” came the deep voice of Xagg Boles. “The Bolian Web Service will sponsor a similar effort to put a number of large space stations in orbit of Al Donovos IV to transition environments from Saketh onto Al D. IV. We will assist the Romulan Star Empire with maintaining interconnected domed environments on the surface of Al D. IV until the atmosphere of Al D. IV can be safely merged with the native Saketh atmosphere.”  
Ushi Irons stood up next to the bolian executive commissioner.   
“You, I recognize,” said Sela.  
“You may not recall,” said Ushi, “but we met once, nearly 40 years ago.”  
“I recall, but I was undercover,” said Sela with some surprise.  
“Your ears and eyebrows were different, but I would not easily forget that face…” Ushi smiled.  
“You have my undivided attention, Ushi Irons,” said Sela.  
“Speaking on behalf of United Earth Governments, I have been authorized to pledge, in addition to Star Fleet’s assignment of the entire fleet of Atlas class starships, support from Earth Gov. to construct and maintain space stations in orbit of Al Jenova IV. While each, if you will, terraforming operation will operate on the Saketh-to-Atlas class starship-to-space station-to-domed planetary environment model described by our esteemed fellow members, each will also employ unique techniques to ensure a thorough scientific process. It is a point of pride for the people of the United Earth Governments, representing the majority of humanity, to offer our full support for the greatest public works project in the history of humanity on behalf of a people we once thought of as our enemies. It is our fervent hope that this project will kindle a new spirit of peace, cooperation and friendship between humanity, and among all the people of the federation, with the romulan people.”  
Emory Ivonovic chuckled. “My condolences on your loss of your seat on the Federation Council and congratulations on your recent appointment as Chief Counsel for United Earth Gov., Ushi. There is an old saying that when an Irons falls from grace, they tend to fall upward.”  
  


26.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Kallasa  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Romulan, Vulcan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Born aboard the I.R.W. Pistris  
> Introduced: Episode 26.2  
> Age when introduced: 58  
> Role: Planetary Designer (identical twin sister to Carauka)
> 
> Character: Carauka  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Romulan, Vulcan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Born aboard the I.R.W. Pistris  
> Introduced: Episode 26.2  
> Age when introduced: 58  
> Role: Planetary Designer (identical twin sister to Kallasa)
> 
> Character: Lin Chun Hu  
> Human Ethnicity: Chinese  
> Additional Species: Vulcan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Ba Sing Se, Cun Ling  
> Introduced: Episode 26.2  
> Age when introduced: 28  
> Role: Planetary Designer (identical twin brother to Lin Chun Xi)
> 
> Character: Lin Chun Xi  
> Human Ethnicity: Chinese  
> Additional Species: Vulcan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Ba Sing Se, Cun Ling  
> Introduced: Episode 26.2  
> Age when introduced: 28  
> Role: Planetary Designer (identical twin brother to Lin Chun Hu)
> 
> Character: Messick  
> Human Ethnicity: Italian  
> Additional Species: Vulcan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Venice, Italy, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 26.2  
> Age when introduced: 114  
> Role: Premiere Assumptive, Vulcan High Command


	99. Episode 26.3 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Ink and Romulan Ale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> President Ivonovic and Supreme Commander Sela - along with Former President Maria Rodriguez and Admiral Ekot - have a private meeting at a lakeside resort onboard Sela's ship, the I.R.W. Bestia...  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Emory Ivonovic (pronounced "Aye-VOHN-no-vitch" - meaning son of Ivan) is an ethnic Serb. The religion his parents were steeped in is Eastern Orthodox Christianity, a tradition rich in religious iconography.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 5: Ink and Romulan Ale

26.3  
Ink and Romulan Ale

A later, more private meeting was held aboard the I.R.W. Bestia on a porch that overlooked a small lake surrounded by trees. A small section of wall with the door leading into this area was the only reminder that the meeting participants were on a ship and not at a lakeside resort. The table was lit by torches located behind the various participants. Stars could be seen above the tree tops – the ceiling of this environment was a viewscreen that displayed the starry environment outside of the ship. A part of the massive U.S.S. Ark was visible in one corner of this night sky. A few logs burning in a brazier nearby provided warmth and completed the rustic atmosphere.   
“When we were constructing these ships, I never thought I would be hosting the Federation President onboard – other than as a prisoner of war,” Sela remarked.  
“Not but three years ago, I was a fugitive from justice, hunted by Star Fleet and the Federation Tribunal, and depending on favors from a romulan spy for what little freedom I had,” Ivonovic replied.   
“I was a prisoner once too.” Sela made an amused noise. “My father, teaching me a lesson about obedience, honor.”  
“My father was the tough love type as well,” mused Ivonovic. “I worked my way out of the ink shop for his newspaper. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent scrubbing ink out of my nails, my hair. I had a lot of messes to clean up.”  
“What you said about Irons falling up,” Sela said. “I have been trying to put down a virulent religion on Saketh and it is now spreading into the ranks of the Navy. Justice Minerva Irons fell from grace and is now styling herself as a god…”  
“We have no contact with her. I was told that she has use of a cloaked ship - a Keldon class cardassian battle cruiser. With the latest in romulan cloaking technology. Which suggests…”  
Sela looked at Ivonovic. He didn’t need to say it. She determined to have a much closer look at the activities of the Tal Shiarr. “Irons has something else. She has visited me in my dreams. Whatever technology she is using is so powerful that she can kill by frightening a dreamer to death. Do you know anything about this device?”  
“No. But I know someone I can ask,” Ivonovic replied.  
Admiral Ekot and Maria Rodriguez were at the table, but both were silent - sipping romulan ale and listening carefully to the conversation between the leaders of the United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire. Supreme Commander Sela’s ale was untouched. President Emory Ivonovic was drinking ice water. 

“I hate being so dependent on humans,” Sela admitted.  
“There was a time when I would have said the same about being dependent on hybrids,” said Ivonovic.   
Sela looked at him. “What changed?”  
“My heart,” Ivonovic replied. “There was a young Star Fleet pilot, part vulcan but you wouldn’t know to look at him. He was a hostage. I tried to rescue him. I was too late. He had been tortured to death. When I was carrying his broken body out of that horrible place, I couldn’t stop thinking about my daughters… my grandchildren…” the federation president choked up a little. “I still get emotional thinking about it. This young man put his life on the line to protect my grandchildren. What right did I have to judge him because of his ancestry? There he was in my arms, dead – his blood was all over me. His body was so broken I had a hard time keeping his… keeping his guts from falling out…”

For a long moment there was silence. 

Sela took a deep breath. She took a long drink of her ale, then handed the cup to Ivonovic without looking at him. Ivonovic took the cup, looked at it for a long moment, then drained it. He swallowed roughly and tried to suppress his coughing.  
“Romulan ale a little harsh for you, Mr. President?” Sela asked with a smile.  
“I just celebrated my 68th birthday...” Ivonovic took a deep, ragged breath. “This is the first time I’ve ever tasted alcohol… Burns…” He suppressed another cough and reached for his glass of water.   
Sela put her hand over the glass. “That will only make it worse. Much worse. There are some things you just have to get used to.”  
Ivonovic coughed, then smiled. “This religion – the Cult of Shiva – is one of those things. Whatever you do to try to destroy it,” Ivonovic paused to cough again. “Like chasing the ale with water…” he coughed again.  
“…will only make it worse,” Sela mused.   
Ivonovic nodded. Then wiped his face and breathed hard. After a moment, he managed, “I was raised in an ancient apocalyptic religion. My parents, my grandparents, the settlers of the Colony of New Hope were all fervent believers. A religion born on another world. A religion that never imagined travel through the stars. It never made sense to me. My parents were horrified that I did not believe. For a while, I was disowned. Eventually they came around – my generation was shedding that antique religion just as they and their parents had previously shed all of its primitive iconography.”  
“What are you telling me, Mr. President?”  
“Emory,” Ivonovic replied.   
Sela sighed. “I do not understand this human custom of informality, but if you must, we may set titles aside in private…”  
“We do it to try to avoid becoming monsters…” Ivonovic took a breath, then, “I am telling you that you will have to allow the Cult of Shiva to burn itself out. Don’t feed it. Every act you take to repress the religion is fuel for the fire. Incorporate it and turn it to your needs. Let it become just another tool of state. Eventually the banality of that will sink in. Just another bureaucratic department in a vast, boring – if efficient bureaucracy…”

26.3


	100. Episode 26.4 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Jet Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Dr. Carrera meets Minerva's avatar for the first time (although it is not the first time for her to meet him...)
> 
>  _A blue haze began coalescing in a corner of the room, slowly taking on more and more of a defined form._  
>  _“And this must be my friend that I haven’t met yet,” said Carrera as the lavardorn avatar’s form became very precisely defined - long dark blue hair - so dark it almost appeared black, dark blue spots on a light blue neck, a ridged nose, a protruding belly as if she were pregnant…_  
>  _“I know you!” exclaimed Captain Dolphin._  
>  _Carrera did a double-take - looking at the blue lavardorn avatar, then back at Captain Dolphin. “What… How…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I love those hoary old time travel canards - "I met you some time ago, but you haven't met me yet..."  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 4: Jet Blue

26.4  
Jet Blue

Rear Admiral Sarekson Carrera, Dr. Tali Shae, Lt. Cmdr. Mlady and Captain Kenneth Dolphin were congregated in the captain’s office on the U.S.S. Hunter. Even at warp 12, which was generally approved for Prowler Class ships in recursive warp mode for non-emergency missions, the journey from Deep Space 9 near the Gamma Quadrant to the Rising Sun colony near the galactic rim and almost to the border of the Klingon Empire – almost on opposite sides of the Federation – took more than a fortnight.   
The Hunter was no hotel and the only empty berths were brig units. To make everyone comfortable, Lt. Cmdr. Gaia Gamor gave up her 2nd Officer’s stateroom for Dr. Tali Shae and Mlady to use and bunked into the captain’s cabin with Dolphin and Carrera. Dolphin’s quarters sported two large, semi-circular divans that were easily large enough for Gamor and Carrera to sleep comfortably on.   
Less than a day out from the Rising Sun solar system, Dr. Carrera requested a full stop. 

“Minerva should be here in the next 20 minutes or so,” Carrera said.  
“I still find it tremendously confusing that you decided to name this…” Dolphin started, then trailed off.  
“Lavardorn,” Carrera said at the same moment Dolphin said, “Lifeform after Minerva.”  
“But Minerva isn’t Minerva anymore,” said Dr. Tali Shae. “She’s Shiva now.”  
“But what is she doing?” Dolphin asked.   
“I don’t think you really want to know,” Tali replied. “I don’t think I really want to know. It all has something to do with encouraging the romulans to allow the U.S.S. Ark to go to that planet…”  
“Saketh…” Mlady filled in.  
“Saketh,” Tali picked up, “and, I think, dismantle the entire biosphere and transplant it to Al D. 3, Al D. 4 and Al J. 4. Oceans, sea beds, atmosphere and all. There is no record of anyone ever attempting anything like it. President Ivonovic makes it sound like just another day for Federation science… I’m not even sure how you can get three planetary biospheres out of one… it just sounds crazy. It’s no wonder the natives need convincing.”  
“But they’re under a death sentence if they don’t,” said Carrera.  
“If they’re anything like humans,” said Dolphin, “that’s 300 years in the future – not something they need to worry about just now. Why not put if off?”  
“It may well take nearly 300 years to pull it off. And probably more than one Ark, in spite of how huge that thing is,” said Carrera. “I understand three more are under construction – do you know what their names are?  
“The U.S.S. Atlas, the U.S.S. Mohammad, and the U.S.S. Delivery,” Dolphin replied with a grin. “Whoever named them had a sense of humor.”  
“That would be your buddy, President Ivonovic,” Carrara intoned. “You’ve made some fairly influential friends, Kenny: Ushi Irons - freshly retired from the Federation Council and now the lawyer everyone wants to talk to when it comes time to influence Earth Gov. Everyone’s favorite fighting admiral - Chekov. The Federation President…”  
“And the Director of Star Fleet Temporal Command,” Dolphin added.

A blue haze began coalescing in a corner of the room, slowly taking on more and more of a defined form.

“And this must be my friend that I haven’t met yet,” said Carrera as the lavardorn avatar’s form became very precisely defined - long dark blue hair - so dark it almost appeared black, dark blue spots on a light blue neck, a ridged nose, a protruding belly as if she were pregnant…

“I know you!” exclaimed Captain Dolphin.

Carrera did a double-take - looking at the blue lavardorn avatar, then back at Captain Dolphin. “What… How…”  
“You’re Jet Traxx,” said Dolphin. “You look just like her.”  
“Captain Dolphin, it’s pleasant to see you again,” the avatar responded.   
“So… Are you still on Trillus Prime?” Dolphin asked.  
“Sound asleep at my parents’ house,” said the avatar.  
“So… How…” Carrera stuttered.  
“Jet is my 7th host. When she sleeps on Trillus Prime, I am awake and with Minerva. When Jet is awake, I have no idea what happens to me. Neither does Minerva. I guess, somehow, I’m with Jet on Trillus Prime.”   
“So you’re not Jet?” Dolphin asked.  
“I am not really certain,” the avatar replied. “I think of myself as Minerva’s avatar, but I am always aware of what she is thinking and how she feels. I’m almost indistinguishable from Minerva. And from Jet. And from Jet’s symbiont, Traxx. And there is a piece of a bajoran prophet’s consciousness that is somehow part of me as well. In a way, there are five of us.” The avatar turned her attention to Rear Admiral Carrera. “You told me our first meeting would be very interesting. You do not disappoint, Sarekson. Minerva is here now.”

“Captain to the bridge!” came Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles’ voice over the comm system.

“Let’s go meet our new friend,” Kenny Dolphin said, gesturing toward the door leading from his office to the bridge.

26.4


	101. Episode 26.5 - Rain Over Rising Sun: The Mouth of the Lavardorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Dr. Carrera and Kenny Dolphin meet Wesley Crusher, the Traveler (ST Next Gen.) and the Doctor (Voyager) inside the upper lung of an enormous alien...
> 
>  _“Well,” said Wesley, “Technically, you cannot phase out of spacetime. Since the universe is one dimensional, there is no actual spacetime between any two points…”_  
>  _“Oww!!” howled Captain Dolphin, gripping his head between his hands. “My neo-cortex hurts…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> There is a rich tradition of living space ships in science fiction. So I decided that is something the Lavardorn (Minerva) is not - not a ship, but a very intelligent partner...  
> .  
> I need to say something about how long klingons live. I am characterizing a 95 year old klingon as ancient - the oldest on record. Fans of DS9 will immediately recall Kang, Kor and Koloth are all well over 100 years old and they had all encountered Captain Kirk... But... those are genetically modified klingons. See Star Trek Enterprise for why some klingons in the 23rd Century look more human... So genetically modified klingons could live very long. But the majority of klingons are not genetically modified. 
> 
> Of course Kang, Kor, and Koloth looked very different when they encountered Kirk. Presumably, they had plastic surgery to give them a more normal klingon appearance - probably as a safeguard to make it more difficult for a human to impersonate them.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 5: The Mouth of the Lavardorn

26.5  
The Mouth of the Lavardorn

Minerva was still a juvenile for her race, not yet 400 years old. She was already nearly five times the size of the U.S.S. Hunter - not quite as large as a Galaxy class starship. But she was not a ship. She was a plant that lived in interstellar space. Her distant ancestors had been born in the oceans of their native planet, grown up in thier sky and left their own atmosphere to sun themselves.  
Smooth and dark on the outside, she looked as though she might be made of the same stuff as the Hunter. But where the Hunter’s form was frozen forever like a dark marble sculpture of a beast about to spring, Minerva rippled and swayed continuously with a supple grace as though she were endlessly swimming through space. She was shaped something like a catfish with a wide mouth that pursed to kiss the Hunter on the port bow, forming a seal against the upper port airlock.

Rear Admiral Sarekson Carrera entered Minerva for the first time by walking on what was functionally her tongue. 

He was followed by Kenny Dolphin, Mlady, and Tali Shae, who was pushing a hover gurney. As soon as the gurney left the Hunter, it dropped firmly onto Minerva’s tongue.   
“Minerva doesn’t generate artificial gravity the way that you do,” said the blue avatar. "You will need to carry him the rest of the way.”  
“I’ll do it,” said Dolphin. He unfastened the armored figure from the gurney and lifted him into a fireman’s carry, then stood up carefully. “Good thing I keep up with my calisthenics. But he’s not as heavy as he looks.”  
Mlady and Tali lifted the gurney, which was quite heavy and with some effort moved it a few feet back into the Hunter. As soon as the gurney was over the Hunter’s deck plating, it became weightless again.  
“Antigrav plates work on planets as well as against grav plating,” said Dr. Carrera.   
“That’s because grav plating mimics the relationship between mass and spacetime,” came the voice of Old Man Crusher, standing at what was effectively the back of Minerva’s mouth. “Minerva doesn’t generate artificial gravity using quantum mechanical solutions. She attracts molecular particles using something more closely related to an electro-magnetic field.” Wesley Crusher turned and walked through an archway at the back of Minerva’s mouth. “Be sure to stay level. Don’t take the path that goes down. Unless you want to get digested, that is,” he said without turning back.  
As soon as Dr. Carrera, Tali, Mlady and Kenny entered the lounge, the archway into Minerva’s mouth closed. Dolphin carefully deposited the person he was carrying onto the couch.   
“Will you be able to see to his needs? A charging station?” Dolphin asked. Even unconscious and completely relaxed, the borg, Hugh (3rd of 5), seemed menacing.  
“Minerva will easily be able to sustain both him and Mlady,” said the avatar. “Both involve intimate mental contact, which Minerva will share with me. I am very much looking forward to it.”

The lounge inside Minerva was spacious and comfortable. It had grown in proportion to Minerva and was now a very large room, easily the interior size of deck 5 on the Hunter, affording plenty of room for running. Which neither Old Man Crusher nor alien Bob (known to Star Fleet as the Traveler) nor the Doctor (formerly the Emergency Medical Hologram for the U.S.S. Voyager) were inclined to do.  
“There are no private rooms, no storage, what you see here is all the accommodations that Minerva can afford.” The blue avatar was speaking to Dr. Carrera. “Minerva is not a transport ship, a cargo ship or a fighter. She has no weapons. Her skin is her shield. But she is very intelligent and very fast. She is not a ship. She is a partner.”  
“Extremely fast,” Crusher added. “So fast that trying to calculate her speed in relation to warp speed is, well, meaningless.”  
“Minerva does not warp space around her the way your space vessels do,” said the avatar. “She selects future selves from waves of probability.”  
“That sounds somewhat like the way we travel,” said alien Bob.  
“Similar, but more intuitive. Minerva has to actually see her target. As I understand it, you phase in and out of spacetime. Minerva slips through it.”  
“Well,” said Wesley, “Technically, you cannot phase out of spacetime. Since the universe is one dimensional, there is no actual spacetime between any two points…”  
“Oww!!” howled Captain Dolphin, gripping his head between his hands. “My neo-cortex hurts…” He dropped his hands and looked around the room to find Dr. Carrera, Dr. Tali Shae, Mlady, Old Man Crusher, alien Bob, the holographic Doctor and Minerva’s blue avatar looking at him. Hugh was sprawled unconscious on the divan that ran the circumference of the room.

“There are a few far more intractable topics I would like to discuss in this spacetime,” Dolphin said. “I don’t think the terrorist cells we have been sent to investigate here at Rising Sun are unrelated to the rumors of unrest in the Klingon Empire. With all the fires Star Fleet is putting out all over the Federation and whatever this horrible religion is that our former captain has stirred up in the Romulan Empire… the andorians and the vulcans still putting down their own native insurgencies… The last thing we need is a war with the klingons. And we are very close to the klingon border.”  
“Technically, local politics is outside of the purview of Star Fleet Temporal Command,” said Rear Admiral Carrera.  
“Local politics?” Dolphin asked, his eyes widening. “An all-out klingon assault doesn’t stay local for long…”  
“Local in this case refers to this time period…” said Wesley.  
“I am standing inside a living… um… spacetreefish in a room full of super-geniuses,” Dolphin said irritably. “Find a way to keep the klingons from blowing the Alpha Quadrant to Kingdom Come in this decade so there’s something left for the borg to save - whenever you manage to get them here… Please?”  
“Chancellor Martok would never allow a full scale assault,” said Dr. Tali Shae.  
“Chancellor Martok is now the oldest unmodified klingon on record,” Dolphin retorted. “He can still walk and seems to be in full command of his faculties, but he is nearly 95 years old and genetically unmodified klingons generally don’t live as long as humans. Martok has done a magnificent job of rebuilding the Imperial fleet. Meanwhile the Federation lost Vulcan to the romulans and now we’re making nice with the Romulan Star Empire… giving them star systems on our side of the Neutral Zone… And our current fleet looks nothing like the old Star Fleet that held the klingons at bay for a hundred years. You can imagine what the average klingon warrior thinks about all that…”

“All right, Kenny,” said Carrera. “I’ll think of something.” He looked around the room. “We’ll think of something…”

26.5


	102. Episode 26.6 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Band on the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The U.S.S. Hunter's investigative team, headed by Ensign Eykirros Jones, surprises a high level terrorist cell in Soda Toar on the Rising Sun colony...
> 
>  _Buttans holstered the antique revolver he had inherited from his late partner, Lynhart Shran. He gripped the ladder inside the manhole and slid down – a very long distance. As the ringing in his ears subsided, he could hear the remaining andorian howling in pain. The wounded andorian didn’t notice Buttans’ presence until the half-bajoran/half Maasai investigator was right on top of him. Buttans stepped on the andorian’s hand as he made a move toward the phaser at his belt..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I wanted to give Buttans Ngumbo one more adventure...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 6: Band on the Run

26.6  
Band on the Run

Rain pelted down as two andorians and six humans burst out of a room onto the second floor veranda of an apartment building and took off running opposite directions along the 2nd floor veranda and ran down the stairs at either end.  
“HALT!!” shouted Ensign Eykirros Jones from the 3rd floor veranda. She started running down one of the staircases with Investigator Buttans Ngumbo right behind her. Special Agent Anana Lynarr ran for the stairs at the other end. As Jones scampered down the stairs, Buttans, behind her, vaulted over the rail and landed on two of the fleeing suspects who had just reached ground level, bringing both to the ground under him. He had locator pins in each hand and stabbed each with them - the pins entered their clothing and went about a half-inch into their skin, drawing blood, which activated the pins. Buttans rolled and came to his feet and took off after Lynarr and Jones.  
One of the men Buttans had landed on sat up, plucked the pin from his shoulder and threw it several feet away. The other lay dazed and barely moved as the rain pelted him. Seconds later the familiar whine of a transporter could be heard as both men were beamed away. The locator pin one of the men had removed and thrown several feet away was also beamed up.

The incessant downpour caused clothing – even Ensign Jones’ resilient Star Fleet uniform – to cling and drag, slowing everyone’s movements except for the andorians, whose scant clothing seemed entirely waterproof. They ran through one of the many city parks that were interconnected throughout the Soda Toer Archipelago by footbridges spanning over the water between the islands of the archipelago. Lights shone out from the windows of thousands of tall buildings that made the archipelago appear similar to Seoul, Korea in some areas, Singapore in others, marking Soda Toer on Rising Sun as one of the most beautiful cities in the Federation.  
Buttans ran unimpeded by his clothing – the back of his blue suit jacket split, as did the seams of his slacks, allowing powerful, ropey muscles room to move freely. He flashed past his smaller female companions, then outstripped his human prey, running past them as they gazed in astonishment. Two of these men stopped in confusion, only to be tagged with locator pins as Jones and Lynarr ran past them in pursuit of their remaining human quarry.   
One man reached around to his back to remove the locator pin and tossed it several feet away – it did not matter. The device had sampled and relayed his DNA to the U.S.S. Hunter, in orbit, and he was beamed into an individual brig unit, as was his more confused companion.

The fleeing andorians, far faster than humans, ran without concern for pursuit. They scrambled easily over a 10’ fence that separated the street from the yard of a series of warehouses. Buttans was able to leap and grasp the top of the fence, effectively levering his body over it in a single, fluid move and landed on his feet, still running.   
Both andorians had paused and were working together to lift a manhole cover out of the concrete. Their antennae went up in unison as they realized they were still being pursued. One of the andorians stood up just as the heavy circular iron manhole cover rolled and clattered, clanging, to the pavement. He drew his phaser – too late as Buttans leapt neatly over the manhole to tackle him. The other andorian quickly scampered down the ladder inside the manhole.  
Buttans stood up, leaving a locater pin in the semi-conscious andorian he had tackled. By now, his blue suit was shredded, hanging in wet rags from his body. He reached behind his back and drew an enormous andorian revolver from its holster near the small of his back and with both hands aimed it into the manhole, angling it at the walls and fired three rounds. The report of the antique weapon drowned out the sounds of thunder, rain and the background sounds of the city and the gun kicked harder than a bajoran boxer mule – its explosive rounds created lightning inside the manhole and doubled the volume of each shot as the roar of the explosions echoed back up out of the manhole.   
Buttans holstered the antique revolver he had inherited from his late partner, Lynhart Shran. He gripped the ladder inside the manhole and slid down – a very long distance. As the ringing in his ears subsided, he could hear the remaining andorian howling in pain. The wounded andorian didn’t notice Buttans’ presence until the half-bajoran/half Maasai investigator was right on top of him. Buttans stepped on the andorian’s hand as he made a move toward the phaser at his belt.   
“Dragomut, this one’s wounded. Beam him directly to medical. Sam – got a live one coming your way – better sedate him,” Buttans said. He bent down and drove a locator pin into one of the andorian’s many wounds and relieved him of his phase pistol. 

Rain was still pelting down into the manhole. Buttans took a few steps to get out of the rain as the remaining andorian was beamed up.  
The communicator embedded in Buttans’ chest brought Ensign Jones’ voice. “Ngumbo, where are you?”  
“In a tunnel in the warehouse district. By the looks of it, a mechanical tunnel.”  
“The andorians?”  
“I caught them. One is in the brig. I hurt the other one pretty badly. I made sure to miss him, but it looks like he caught quite a bit of shrapnel and at least one of his legs was badly broken. Sam was on standby, so he should pull through. How about your end – did you get the rest of them?”  
“Two of them got away. They were just too fast for us,” Jones replied.  
“Well,” Buttans responded, “we got the andorians. I think they might have more interesting things to say. Six out of eight in a dead run through the rain with only the three of us… That’s pretty good.”  
“The other two will alert the remainder of their cell and word will spread. This investigation won’t be quite so easy now,” said Jones.  
“That’s assuming we haven’t busted up their cell entirely,” said Lynarr.  
“I’ve heard you do a great interview, boss,” Buttans replied. “I’m looking forward to it. If you can get our blue friends with the antennae to talk, they may have a lot to tell us. I’m willing to bet they’re either weapons suppliers or trainers. Either way, they are the most likely to be able to give us more, much, much more about these terrorist cells and what they’re planning…”

26.6


	103. Episode 26.7 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Dreaming of Canada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Johnny Canada has been spying on Shiva and Remma. Shiva noticed...
> 
>  _“I wish I could explain it,” said Johnny. “That doom that is coming to your planet, the gamma wave front that kills everything in its path… That doom is coming for us all. A lot of people don’t recognize it, or they’re in denial, or they think their momentary greeds are somehow more significant..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> This is the central theme of the entire Star Trek Hunter series. An environmental disaster looms over the entire Alpha Quadrant. The real nightmare is getting all the bickering, seemingly intelligent inhabitants to work together to save their habitat. Not to be too allegorical... But I'm just saying...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 7: Dreaming of Canada

26.7  
Dreaming of Canada

Johnny Canada, Deputy Director of Field Operations for the Trantor Police Intelligence Division, had catalogued 18 separate types of dreams being used by Shiva. Dreams to make new converts. Dreams to consecrate new priests. Dreams to set dogma. Dreams to change dogma. Even the dream to introduce Sela to the nikamsitiri. And dreams to teach the nikamsitiri the Romulan language, teach them about romulan culture and explain the price the romulans would exact for the salvation of their race.   
In his 20 years working in intelligence, Johnny had never gained intelligence as quickly or so astounding as what he was learning now. Giant talking crows that the romulans were already arming with disruptors, a savage religion already spread over most of Saketh - a religion that included infant sacrifice.   
All of this meant that he was now working all the time. The nature of his job was such that he would work from the moment he got up until he dropped from exhaustion, only to do the same the next day. Now Johnny was at least going to bed at a regular time, but only so he could go from working while awake to working while asleep.

But tonight he opened the miniature door through which he could see Shiva’s world and saw only darkness. This was unlike her. Shiva kept regular sleep hours. This wasn’t the empty darkness of an empty room… This was the blackness of something on the other side of the wall blocking his view. This was the way Johnny had observed all of the dreams Shiva created - through a peephole in the wall.  
Johnny felt the hair on the back of his neck starting to stand up. Chills ran up his spine. He whirled to see Shiva, in her feminine guise, standing behind him. For a long, terrifying moment, they looked into each other’s eyes. Then Shiva opened her mouth and Remma, in her guise as a winged mogu mogo, leapt out toward Johnny’s mouth. Johnny put his hand in front of his mouth and Remma twined around his arm and used her stinger to sting him in the stomach and started burrowing her stinger into him.   
Johnny gripped her tail just above the stinger and whipped her back out at her master. Remma changed back into her native form as a romulan. Instinctively, Johnny held on to her wrist. But his feathers weren’t strong or flexible enough to wrap around Remma’s wrist. Remma transformed once again into a flying snake. Now in the form of one of the nikamsitiri, Johnny lost himself in a vast flock of nikamsitiri, which unexpectedly provided him the opportunity to learn their language.  
Shiva and Remma worked their way through the flock, asking the nikamsitiri which of them was Johnny, but he was well disguised and nikamsitiri were curious about him and did not betray his location. The nikamsitiri were not obedient to authority in the way that humans, romulans and hemra were - they made their decisions in far more communal ways.   
As punishment, Shiva turned the entire flock into humans in mid-air, causing them to fall to their deaths. Johnny quickly equipped this falling mass of humanity with parachutes and caused them all to look identical to himself. A few hundred Johnnys had already fallen to their deaths, but thousands more parachuted out of the sky to land safely on solid ground that Shiva turned to water, causing the Johnnys to struggle with their parachutes until Johnny transformed them into deep sea eels, giving them the dual benefit of being able to easily slip free of the parachutes and to leap onto Shiva with a massive electrical attack.

Shiva transformed Remma into a sword, cut a hole in the water into some other reality and made good her escape. 

Johnny Canada was stunned. He allowed the nikamsitiri to transform first into flying fish, then as they leapt out of the water and into the air, to retake their normal forms as gigantic crows with mottled gray and black feathers - from there to fly off into their own dreams. But not all of them did. Five of them remained with him. Johnny landed on the ground and resumed his human form. One of the nikamsitiri landed near him. Others landed heavily in the tree limbs nearby and above him.  
“What are you?” asked the bird.  
“I suppose to you, romulans, humans, hemra, vulcans - we are all so similar that the differences between us are difficult for you to distinguish. But above all of that, we are individuals. I am Johnny.”  
“Urk. But there are many of us with that name,” said the bird.  
“And there are millions, perhaps billions of my kind with the name John.”  
“Then how are you different from all the other Johnnys?”  
“I assume the same way that you are different from all the other Urks,” Johnny replied. “The name is just, you know, a marker. A place to collect memories of a certain set of behaviors. You’re the Urk that talks to me.”  
“So the other Johnnys wouldn’t use my people to escape from a monster at the risk of our lives?”  
“What would Urk do in desperation? Would you use my people?”  
“I would not use my own people. And yet you are to become my people. Would you have done this to yours?”  
“I don’t know. When I drew all of you here, I didn’t realize I was flying among your actual people,” said Johnny. “This dream machine that we reach out to - it’s far, far more powerful than I had thought.”  
“But Shiva… brought Sela to us. Sela, who rescues us. But Shiva was willing to kill us to get to you,” said Urk.  
“And when I realized you were actual nikamsitiri…” Johnny started.  
“You fought for us,” Urk concluded. “Your people are treacherous. Dangerous. Complicated. And now we are being trained to fight for you - to kill some of you on behalf of others. Can you imagine being saved from a certain doom by some birds only to be brought into their service to kill other birds?”  
“Our goal, mine, Shiva’s, even Sela’s although she probably doesn’t realize it yet, is to save us all,” said Johnny. “All of us, monkeys and birds, and fish - we’ve encountered intelligent fish… We’re trying to save all of us. It’s just really, really hard to do.”  
“I don’t understand,” said Urk.  
“I wish I could explain it,” said Johnny. “That doom that is coming to your planet, the gamma wave front that kills everything in its path… That doom is coming for us all. A lot of people don’t recognize it, or they’re in denial, or they think their momentary greeds are somehow more significant. This dream may have seemed like a nightmare. But the real nightmare is to get all these people looking beyond themselves and momentary opportunities for gain. Especially when they don’t want to admit to themselves just how big and intractable the disaster we are facing is. And what the price for solving it will be - and it is going to be a terrible price…”

26.7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Urk  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Nikamsitiri  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Kam  
> Introduced: Episode 26.6  
> Age when introduced: 51  
> Role: Wing Leader, Ambassador


	104. Episode 26.8 - Rain Over Rising Sun: The Back Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The half-kitarran Ensign Eykirros Jones interviews one of her andorian suspects - with assistance from Buttans Ngumbo...
> 
>  _Jones let out a girlish sigh. “Ah, your first lie.” In the darkness, the crenellations on her forehead seemed to glow just a little. She let the silence do its work._  
>  _The andorian’s antennae stretched – spreading out slightly, then flexing back – but he could not tear his eyes away from the crenellations on her forehead. They seemed to ripple slightly – like worms crawling just under her skin. He began to tremble slightly, eyes widening with fear..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> You might remember kitarrans from Star Trek Next Generation. They were the aliens (all of them female if I recall) that used a highly addictive game to overwhelm the minds of the crew of the Enterprise...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 8: The Back Room

26.8  
The Back Room

After having beamed back aboard and showered, the investigations group returned to the U.S.S. Hunter’s Ground Operations Center, located a few meters behind the ship’s bridge.   
“I had heard you could run, but I’ve never seen anything like that,” said Ensign Jones. “You literally shredded your clothes.”  
“Running in the rain is pleasant,” Investigator Buttans rejoined, “unless you are wearing clothing.”  
“I’ve never heard of anyone, human, bajoran, vulcan who could catch an andorian,” Special Agent Anana Lynarr observed. “They are running machines…”  
“Legend has it that the cheetah taught the Maasai how to run, the lion taught us how to hunt, the baboon taught us how to fight and the elephant taught us wisdom. But during the great repopulation at the end of the 21st Century, we had to restart the natural cycle of the Serengeti-Mara largely with zoo animals. So the Maasai had to teach the cheetah how to run, the lion how to hunt, the baboon how to fight. But we never needed to teach the elephants anything,” Buttans Ngumbo said with a smile.  
Ensign Eykirros Jones idly traced a finger through the brain-like crenellations on her forehead that mimicked her enlarged neo-cortex. “Let’s allow our human catch to stew. Best to interview the andorians before they regain too much of their strength. Ngumbo, they’re going to be terrified of you. I’d like you in the corner of the room. Just sit there, don’t move too much, help create the atmosphere. You won’t need to try to act scary. The more genuine you are, the more you will frighten them. By catching them in a foot race, you just blew a great big hole in their concept of the order of things.”   
The ensign turned toward the bolian special agent on loan from the Trantor Police Intelligence Division. “Anana, I want you to stay here and watch on monitors. You would get a better read watching them through the glass, but they’re andorians. They would be aware of your presence…”

The U.S.S. Hunter’s interview room had been added as an afterthought, made from a medical storage room at the back of deck 3. It was smaller than average for such a room with a very small table between two sets of chairs. There was not a standard viewing room, but an adjacent brig unit had been modified so that a wall panel could be removed to reveal the one-way mirror that looked into the interview room. Both rooms could only be accessed from the large surgery that took up the majority of deck 3.

When Jones and Buttans walked into medical, they were greeted by Dr. Jazz Sam Sinder, the U.S.S. Hunter’s Medical Director.   
“Ensign, Investigator, we came across something interesting… you will want to see this.” Dr. Jazz led the group into the small surgery. Both beds were occupied - one by the injured andorian, whose injuries appeared to be quite extensive. The other was one of the humans Buttans had landed on and tagged. Both were apparently unconscious, but strapped to the beds per protocol. “This fellow right here…” the bajoran doctor tapped the apparently slumbering human prisoner. “Not human. He’s actually a klingon surgically altered to look like a human.”  
“Dr. Jazz, are any of the others conscious?” asked Ensign Jones.  
“In their individual cells,” Jazz answered.  
“We need to check them now and put them all under,” said Investigator Buttans Ngumbo.  
“Suicide watch, all of them,” Jones added.   
“Kit,” said Jazz, “I need you to check on all the prisoners. Hit them with anesthetize gas and get them unconscious as fast as possible. Suicide watch.” Dr. Jazz was already headed from the small surgery into the large surgery, around which the brig cells were arranged. “Dr. Raj, report to the small surgery and make sure our guests remain unconscious.”  
As they entered the main surgery, Dr. Kunto Wekesa was checking four of the brig units. He turned to report. “We have three humans and one andorian, all alive and…” He checked a tablet he was holding, held up four fingers, then three, then two… “And unconscious.”  
Dr. Jazz retrieved a medical tricorder, headed toward one of the brig units. “Which one do you want to interview first?”   
“The andorian,” Jones replied.  
Dr. Jazz turned to Dr. Wekesa. “Kit, I think this is your area of expertise… I need you to thoroughly check out the andorian for suicide devices - false teeth, hidden garrotes, explosives, poisons…”   
“When you’ve cleared him,” said Ensign Jones, “I want him to wake up in the back room in shackles. Buttans and I will be in there with him.”

About ten minutes later, a groggy andorian wearing only running shorts and soft gray shoes came to consciousness in a dark room. Ensign Eykirros Jones’ black uniform was almost indistinguishable from the darkness except for the thin gold piping around the collar and cuffs, which emphasized her hands and her face. Her pale blue prisoner tried to make a brave face, but every time he looked into her eyes, he found them flat – emotionless – inscrutable.   
“You are not Earth First,” said Jones. “You’re not Andoria First either, considering your head is, for the moment, still connected to your body. You aren’t fat enough to be a weapons merchant.”  
“You won’t get anything from me…” the andorian started.  
Jones let out a girlish sigh. “Ah, your first lie.” In the darkness, the crenellations on her forehead seemed to glow just a little. She let the silence do its work.  
The andorian’s antennae stretched – spreading out slightly, then flexing back – but he could not tear his eyes away from the crenellations on her forehead. They seemed to ripple slightly – like worms crawling just under her skin. He began to tremble slightly, eyes widening with fear. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Buttans Ngumbo, seated behind him, suddenly leaned forward and whispered hoarsely: “Give us your name!”  
“Bohr Ch’okianon!” The andorian clapped his hands to his ears and his temples. “Get out of my head!!”  
“Bohr Ch’okianon,” said Jones. “You do not have to speak. What you do say will be used against you in court under Federation law. If you are also a citizen of the Andorian Empire, you are also subject to Andorian Imperial law.”  
“You cannot use telepathy to look into my mind!” The andorian held his head firmly with his fingertips – as if that action could shut out a telepathic intruder.  
Investigator Buttans responded. “Telepathic evidence is actionable, but not probative. And we will be taking action…”  
“And those actions, even though based on telepathic evidence, are, in and of themselves, along with their results, probative,” Jones added. “Take a moment and think things through, Bohr Ch’okianon. Federation law takes precedent over Andorian law when you are within the Federation but outside of the empire’s borders – as you are right now. Think about whether you would prefer to be prosecuted under Federation law or Andorian Imperial law.” Jones fell silent again and simply looked at her andorian prisoner. After a moment, the crenellations in her forehead seemed to writhe again – moving like worms under her skin.  
The prisoner turned suddenly and looked at Buttans. The investigator was dressed in all black. His skin was almost as black. In the corner of the darkened room, he was almost invisible except for his eyes, which seemed to glow. He was still, relaxed but alert – like a panther. The andorian shuddered and looked away, only to look at him again. Then finally, “How did you catch me?”

“I am faster than you are,” Buttans replied. His voice was soft, but full of menace. “And far stronger.”

The andorian looked back at Jones – her forehead was alive as with worms crawling under the skin – her eyes locked on her target. He clapped his hands to his temples again. “Stop it! I’ll tell you!!”  
“You’re a trainer, special tactics, Zero G and low G combat, secure facility infiltration…”  
“Yes! I train people how to take over satellite systems using ground-based and space-based assault…”  
“You have been training Earth First. What did they want you to teach them?”  
“How to take the satellite defense network offline…”  
“It is an andorian system. You officially work for the Avradega Satellite Defense Research Institute. But ASDRI does not know you are a traitor…”  
“They don’t know…” the andorian replied.  
Ensign Jones gave another girlish sigh. Her eyes softened just for a moment “And there is your second lie. Someone in ASDRI knows. Someone high up. Who?”  
“I don’t know her name. I just hear her voice. She sends me instructions in audio files…”

26.8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Bohr Ch'okianon  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Andorian  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Si Forest, Avradega  
> Introduced: Episode 26.7  
> Age when introduced: 20  
> Role: Spy, Mercenary


	105. Episode 26.9 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Profiles (Part 1 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A few moments with Federation President Emory Ivonovic, Bolian Web Service Executive Planning Commissioner Xagg Boles, Senate of New Romulus on Vulcan 1st Proconsul Vruncleel, United Earth Governments Chief Counsel Ushi Irons and the Vulcan High Command in Exile Premiere Saoron...
> 
>  _In a warm bed in a large stateroom in the People’s Palace in Laikan on Andoria lay the shriveled and ancient Premiere of the Vulcan High Command in Exile, Saoron. His trusted advisor, T’Haru Gonzalez, lay next to him, her arms around him to keep him warm. Despite the warmth of the room, the tiny, ancient, bald vulcan shivered, never quite reaching consciousness... Gradually, Saoron’s shivering grew less. He unconsciously nestled back into T’Haru’s arms, then rolled over to face her and nestled his tiny, wrinkled bald head under her chin. His labored breathing became shallow, ragged, and then finally stopped altogether..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> These were very fun little moments to write, just to catch a sense of the personalities of these chief executives...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun **  
**Scene 9: Profiles (Part 1 of 2)

26.9  
Profiles (Part 1 of 2)

Federation President Emory Ivonovic was seated in the presidential office in the engineering hull of the U.S.S. Ark. This office was not an easy part of the ship to get to. The room projected down from near the middle of the ship, almost exactly over the middle of an ocean. The floor of this office was transparent, as were the walls, affording a largely unobstructed view of the ocean.   
Floating in the middle of this office was a holographic representation of the unimaginably large U.S.S. Ark parked next to a space station that was almost as large as the ship’s engineering hull. The engineering hull of the Ark was connected to the space station by what could only be described as a huge, flexible hose. Looking down over the ocean, Ivonovic could see that the waterline had receded significantly. This ocean was slowly being drained from the Ark into the space station in orbit of Vulcan. Eventually, it would be merged with the Regar Sea in an attempt to restart life in Vulcan’s largest ocean.  
Ivonovic put on his reading glasses, picked up an old fashioned ink pen and stared at a stack of blank, old fashioned, actual paper. Writing his weekly subspace address to his fan base had become so much more difficult now that instead of railing against the man, he had become the man. Being on the inside had, as Ushi Irons had warned, changed Ivonovic. But he could not afford to make the cosmopolitan mistake of speaking to the better angels of human nature.   
Emory Ivonovic had not risen to power appealing to the native optimism and altruism in people, but to their more practical, suspicious, animal nature. Optimism and altruism could ennoble people to take on monumental tasks, but none of those projects would ever come to fruition unless someone was looking after the practical side of things and making sure people were rewarded for getting them done - or punished for impeding them.   
Emory had always avoided talking about his older brother, who still farmed the rocky soil of Pilgrim’s Landing on the Colony of New Hope, but Slobodon Ivonovic had always been Emory’s touchstone. What did Slobodon stand to gain from this massive effort to bring a dead sea on Vulcan back to life? Or to rescue a distant romulan planet from a doom that was still 300 years away?  
It was easy to write flowery rhetoric about what a wonderful thing humanity was doing or how today’s science would become tomorrow’s technology or how karma might repay humanity for helping a still very mistrustful antagonist. None of that fixed Slobodon’s tractor or made his children better farmers. But it could significantly reduce the chances of his grandchildren dying on some distant battlefield.  
Ivonovic put his pen to the paper and started writing – fast, competent, confident, flawless cursive flowed from the antique ballpoint ink pen.

\- * -

In an office in saucer section 4 of the U.S.S. Ark, the elderly Bolian Web Executive Planning Commissioner, Xagg Boles, idly turned a holographic representation of the U.S.S. Hunter over and over in his hands. The holographic model was about the size of one of his hands. He released it and it flew back to hover over a corner of his drafting table before fading out.   
The elderly bolian picked up a document reader and thumbed through a few screens in a distracted way, then hit a control that caused a large number of files to be displayed by icons. He touched one icon and Captain Kenneth Dolphin’s face appeared on the reader. Dolphin was speaking directly into the camera, but the sound was turned down, so it was just an odd picture of a human with his mouth moving. Xagg Boles watched idly for a few moments, then he set the reader down and spent nearly a full minute gently patting the top of his drafting table with his blue fingertips. He ran a blue hand over his hairless blue scalp and squeezed the back of his own neck and made a light burping noise.  
With more of a sense of purpose, he set the reader on a reading stand next to his drafting table and looked it as he massaged the wrinkles on his face. “Computer, I want to speak to my grandchild.”  
A computer voice responded: “You have 17 grandchildren, Executive Planning Commissioner. Which grandchild do you wish to speak to?”  
The elderly bolian head of state took a deep breath, straightened himself as much as he could, then said, “My eldest. Get me Lieutenant Commander Napoleon Boles on the U.S.S. Hunter.” Xagg Boles sighed. “It’s been more than 20 years. I should have done this long ago…”

\- * -

On the New Romulus Planetary Ecology Research Space Station #1, 1st Proconsul Vruncleel of the New Romulus Senate and United Earth Governments Chief Counsel Ushi Irons were standing at the safety railing of a cliff overlooking the Regar Sea Orbital Research basin as it filled with water and wildlife being siphoned from the U.S.S. Ark.   
“I understand romulans have been moving oceans through spaceships for hundreds of years,” intoned the newly appointed head of state for the UEG.  
“It took more than a little convincing to goad the Senate into authorizing the sharing of our bio life hydraulic technology with the Federation,” said Vruncleel. “Even though it is so clearly to our benefit. As it turns out, despite the vast gulf in our technologies, your solutions to these problems were extremely similar to ours.”  
“It appears the range of solutions for this particular set of problems is severely narrow,” Ushi responded. “But as I understand it, the primary advantage from your assistance was not so much with solving the big problems, but rather with the depth of failsafe devices and procedures. We benefitted enormously from your centuries of trial and error.”  
“From our mistakes, that is?” Vruncleel raised an eyebrow.  
“How better to learn than from another’s failures?” Ushi drawled. He stroked his long, wispy white beard and flicked the bottom of it to the right.  
“Then there is so much that we can learn from you,” Vruncleel retorted.  
“And it is vitally important that you do,” said Ushi. “When it comes to the important and the deadly, we rarely fail to fail…”  
Vruncleel turned and summoned a servant, who brought a tray with two glasses. One held romulan ale. The other held ice water. The top diplomat for New Romulus on Vulcan handed the water to Chief Counsel Ushi Irons. “Then let us drink to a frank exchange of each of our unique parades of follies…”

\- * -

In a warm bed in a large stateroom in the People’s Palace in Laikan on Andoria lay the shriveled and ancient Premiere of the Vulcan High Command in Exile, Saoron. His trusted advisor, T’Haru Gonzalez, lay next to him, her arms around him to keep him warm. Despite the warmth of the room, the tiny, ancient, bald vulcan shivered, never quite reaching consciousness. Other advisors and relatives were in the room, as were a few andorian bureaucrats.  
Gradually, Saoron’s shivering grew less. He unconsciously nestled back into T’Haru’s arms, then rolled over to face her and nestled his tiny, wrinkled bald head under her chin. His labored breathing became shallow, ragged, and then finally stopped altogether. T’Haru held her mentor for several minutes, waiting, until she was certain there was no life left in him. Then she stepped out of the bed and got dressed.   
A small cot was brought to the bedside and the ancient vulcan’s body was transferred to the cot and placed in the middle of the room. First T’Haru Gonzalez, then, one by one, every other person in the room, including the andorians, placed a hand on his body until the tiny body was covered with hands. Each person touching the body could feel several different vulcans attempting to meld with Saoron’s mind, but there was no mind left to meld with.  
With this final verification of his passing, the various family members, fellow workers and friends in the room stepped back. A pair of death technicians quickly and carefully wrapped the body, then removed it for the reclamation ceremony.  
T’Haru spoke: “As Premiere Saoron’s primary advisor and assistant, it falls to me to inform you that Saoron considered himself to be of Andoria now and it is the soil of Andoria that his remains should enrich…”

26.9


	106. Episode 26.10 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Profiles (Part 2 of 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A few moments with Former Federation President Maria Rodriguez, Emperor Sin IV, Premiere Messik, Supreme Commander Sela, Ambassador Krast and Chancellor Martok...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 10: Profiles (Part 2 of 2)

26.10  
Profiles (Part 2 of 2)

Maria Rodriguez reclined in a lounge chair and very slowly and appreciatively worked down a glass of romulan ale. She was on the same forest lake overlook where she had earlier met with her successor, President Ivonovic and the Romulan Star Navy Supreme Commander Sela. The stars in the sky above the forest lake streaked by as the ship she was aboard, the I.R.W. Bestia, raced from New Romulus on Vulcan to the planet Saketh on the far edge of Romulan space.   
The former Federation President and now Ambassador to the Romulan Star Empire was the only human onboard. A few of her advisors were vulcan, but most were bajoran – farmers and veterans of the resistance, all. Early in her career, Maria had volunteered as legal counsel for captured bajorans, pleading their cases in corrupt Imperial Cardassian courts and winning a surprising number of concessions, saving dozens of lives straight through the Cardassian War, when humans were as unpopular in the Cardassian Empire as were bajorans. Her two vulcan advisors had served with her during those years on Cardassia Prime and every bajoran on her staff owed her either their own life or the life of a family member.  
On the surface, Maria seemed a rather bubbly and light-hearted Mexican woman. Her staff had picked up the nickname ‘Moso’ from her children – variously the merry bear or the mama bear. Quarters had been found for her staff aboard the Bestia and strict limits had been placed on their movements – all of them knew this was to prevent encounters between Federation ambassadorial staff and the many slaves of the Romulan Star Empire onboard.  
A single romulan guard, who seemed confused whether his job was to protect the elderly woman or keep her prisoner, was Maria’s only companion on this porch.  
Maria watched the stars stream by above and thought long and deeply about her new role. The issue of slavery was definitely going to come up for air. It was only a question of what small number of vital issues she would allow to take precedence.   
Only two issues could be allowed to get in front: Survival of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants. And peace among the great powers, among which the Romulan Star Empire remained one of the top three, even though weakened by the destruction of Romulus and the ongoing collapse of livable romulan space by the onslaught of deadly gamma radiation.

\- * -

Aboard the I.A.G. Ravonnelle, Emperor Sin IV and the Vulcan Premiere Assumptive, Messick, had taken over the ship captain’s stateroom. The andorian head of state and the presumptive head of state for the vulcan people in exile were sitting very close to each other, their chairs drawn together – face to face. Messick was rare among vulcans in that his hair was not so much black as a very dark red and he had chosen to wear it long – it flowed to his shoulders. He also had a short, neatly trimmed beard – both the hairstyle and beard were not in fashion with most vulcans but were more reminiscent of Messick’s distant Italian ancestors.   
“It is time,” said Emperor Sin IV.  
“I must admit, I am surprised that our Premier vouchsafed his living katra to you,” said Messick. “It is far more than symbolic for the heads of state of our two people to share their thoughts so intimately.”  
“It has been a great honor and I shall benefit from it the rest of my days,” the emperor intoned. “However it is also becoming quite the burden and your alacrity in its removal would be greatly appreciated. Can we dispense with further discussion?”  
In response, Messick carefully framed the blind andorian emperor’s face with the fingers of both his hands and looked into the emperor’s blind eyes. “My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…”

\- * -

An ancient klingon rolled out of his bed into a fighting stance. This once simple motion now required him to stop for a few deep breaths. He grunted in dissatisfaction and donned his armor quickly and silently and only once armed and armored allowed himself to stretch – but each stretch was a fighting move. Gradually as his ancient body warmed up, he moved more quickly through his stances.   
He pushed a button hidden under a cabinet and a slot opened above his simple, but sturdy cot. A hidden mechanical arm launched a bat’leth* out of the wall and it tumbled toward the back of the ancient klingon’s head. He stepped aside, caught the sword without looking at it and seamlessly incorporated it into his attack forms. He kept up this morning routine for an entire hour, stopping only twice for a drink of water and a few heavy breaths. During the final few moments of his exercises, the old klingon dropped his bat’leth twice. The first time, he flipped the blade up with his foot and continued his forms. The second time he left the sword on the floor, and continued his forms with the d’k tagh** from his belt.  
After completing his morning workout, Chancellor Martok flipped the bat’leth single-handedly into the scabbard on his back, picked up a cane, and hobbled painfully out of his room down toward the council chambers…

 _*bat’leth - curved klingon sword with two sharpened points at either end, and four handles along the back side of the blade.  
_ _**d'k tagh - straight klingon fighting knife with additional blades that spring out of the hilt-guard when deployed._

\- * -

In another forest environment on the I.R.W. Bestia, on another porch, Romulan Star Navy Supreme Commander Sela was talking with a very unusual ambassador. She was the best person to carry out these extremely complicated negotiations because she was the only romulan who could understand and speak their language fluently. In fact, although she had only learned this language recently, she spoke it with the same natural fluidity and confidence with which she used her own native Romulan.  
She very much needed other romulans – tens of thousands of them – to learn this language and learn it quickly. Fortunately, she had found at least one among the several dozen nikamsitiri who was able to quickly learn the romulan language.   
These enormous mottled gray and black birds were extremely dangerous. Sela had ordered the now fully repaired Fero to beam up several thousand representatives and begin distributing a few to each romulan warbird and several to each battlegod, to be placed in natural environments that would allow them to hunt and farm. The birds had quickly learned how to communicate with their fellow colonies using ship-to-ship systems set up with controls designed for them to operate with their beaks.   
Getting the birds to understand the subtleties of working with romulans and discerning friend from foe was far trickier, but the nikamsitiri were quick learners. They were also surprisingly calm and patient, allowing romulan doctors and biologists to examine them closely.  
Krast, the elderly female nikamsitiri who had learned the romulan language, was particularly bright.

Sela was not taking any chances with these freakishly powerful giant birds – she always had a full complement of guards and was dressed in full armor and armed when meeting them. 

“Give my people the viewers and I will tell them what you told me. Let them choose. Many will choose to remain and die with our world or not,” said Krast in flawless Romulan. “I will encourage my people to go with your people and spread out to many worlds. The logic of doing so will be clear to my people. As we have spread out to every suitable environment on our world – and many not so suitable – so that we may be strong and our children endure. I will ensure everyone knows the price for passage..."

26.10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Martok  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Rost, Q'onos  
> Introduced: Episode 26.10  
> Age when introduced: 95  
> Role: Chancellor of the Klingon High Council
> 
> Character: Krast  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Nikamsitiri  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Kam  
> Introduced: Episode 26.10  
> Age when introduced: 51  
> Role: Matriarch, Ambassador


	107. Episode 26.11 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Oversight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Ensign Ike Jones has made a serious mistake... and Captain Dolphin is not happy... with his 1st and 2nd officers...
> 
>  _Captain Dolphin had a grim expression. “People, we are twelve light-years from the border of klingon space and I have to put three of my departments on report for failure to properly notify the chain of command about the presence of a klingon spy on my ship?"_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The U.S. Army Field Leadership Training Manual is one of the best books I have ever read. The multiple levels of accountability for this serious breach of protocol are textbook from it. Everyone up the chain of command is responsible.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 11: Oversight

26.11  
Oversight

“So how much of what we just got is probative?” Investigator Buttans Ngumbo asked as he and Ensign Eykirros Jones rejoined Special Agent Anana Lynarr in the U.S.S. Hunter’s Ground Operations Center in the back of deck 8.  
“All of it,” Jones replied.  
“But telepathy…” Buttans objected.  
“I’m not telepathic. To my knowledge, no kitarrans are. And I’m only half. Humans generally aren’t telepathic either,” Jones rejoined.  
“Okay – so how did you know he was a Low G/Zero G trainer and works for ASDRI?” asked Lynarr.  
“The second flows from the first. You can tell he’s skilled in Low G by the way he moves,” Jones answered. “If you train in Low G all the time, you pick up certain movements. If you travel a lot, they become more pronounced. Our artificial gravity is set for 1G – Earth standard – which is just a little lighter than Rising Sun and considerably heavier than Avradega or Andoria. The way he was moving around in his chair – he was testing the grav setting and adjusting to it, preparing himself for combat. You can see Rumi Grace and her team doing that all the time. Our 2nd officer, Lieutenant Commander Gamor does it too. So why would someone that skilled in Low G be out here except to train Earth First for Low G/Zero G missions? And the only targets around here worth going to all that trouble for would be either the planetary defense grid or the weather control grid, which is controlled by the Vulcan Science Academy.”  
“If you want to get past vulcan security,” Jones continued, “you hire a vulcan. The planetary defense satellites are andorian. If you want to get past andorian security…”  
“Hire an andorian,” Lynarr said.  
“And he’s useless if he doesn’t know the most recent system upgrades,” Jones added.  
“So he would need to be a current employee of the Avradega Satellite Defense Research Institute,” Buttans concluded. “But what was all that business happening on your forehead?”  
“Anana, did you see anything unusual about my forehead on the viewscreen?” Jones asked.  
“Like what?” Lynarr responded.  
“You would know if you saw it,” said Buttans.  
“It’s because she didn’t have the sound turned up enough,” Jones replied. “What you saw was caused by very low sound frequencies interfering with your visual processing. With significant training, I’ve learned how to cook up some really powerful optical illusions with my voice. But the simpler the illusion, the more effective.”  
“Very interesting ability,” commented the U.S.S. Hunter’s Director of Ground Operations, Lt. T’Lon, who had been working at her desk at the back of the room. “I would keep quiet about that ability – it isn’t something that is widely known about kitarrans. Do you have enough to update our COO?”  
“Don’t you want to hear about it first?” asked Jones.  
“There is no point in doing the same work twice, Ensign,” said T’Lon. “If you’re ready for me, you’re ready for Gaia.”  
“We are ready, sir,” Jones responded.  
Lt. T’Lon looked at her screen for a few moments, then looked up. “I have reserved the Executive Conference room for us right now. Please proceed to the room,” she said, then looked into her screen again. “Director Moon,” she added.  
“T’Lon?” came Lt. Moon’s voice over the comm system.  
“Salek, Can you join the ground operations department and Lieutenant Commander Gamor in the Executive Conference Room?  
“Give me a moment to batten down a couple of things down here and I’ll be right with you,” Moon replied.

In addition to the Hunter’s Ground Operations Director, Lt. T’Lon and Engineering Director, Lt. Moon Sun Salek, Lt. Cmdr. Gamor brought the other officer that answered directly to her, Lt. Grorher, the Hunter’s new (and rather seriously furry) Director of Flight Operations.  
In addition to the department directors and the investigations team, 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves had brought his four tall, blonde betazoid tactical specialists – often referred to as the ‘Grace Team’ after Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace, who had recruited to other three young women.

“Okay Ike,” said Gamor, “this is your meeting.”  
Ensign Eykirros Jones walked to the end of the antique teak table. “Hunter, please display our prisoners.”  
Images of six floating heads appeared at the end of the table near the ensign.   
“The two andorians, Bohr Ch’okianon and Thor Sha’al, are both current employees of the Avradega Satellite Defense Research Institute. Our four humans were identified as Jim Sellers, James White, Robert McAllister and Conrad Fir, all high end members in the Earth First movement on Rising Sun. However, it turns out that James White is actually a klingon who has been surgically…”  
Gaia Gamor immediately stood up. “Captain, can you come to the executive conference room, please?”   
Lt. T’Lon took a deep breath. Lt. Grorher leaned back in his chair with a grunt.   
Lt. Moon dropped her hands onto the table with a thump. “I think you buried the lead, Ensign.”

A moment later, Captain Kenneth Dolphin strode into the room. His senior staff shifted chairs to make room for him at the head of the table.  
“Captain, it appears we have a klingon spy aboard,” Gamor reported.  
“Sam told me,” Dolphin answered evenly. He turned and looked at T’Lon. “I assume you just learned about this?”  
“Yes sir,” T’Lon replied.   
Dolphin sighed and turned toward his second officer. “Put yourself on report, Lieutenant Commander and pass it down to the appropriate personnel. Formal language – serious breach of protocol, etc. I want a training and improvement plan for all of your departments – security protocols, interdepartmental communication. It should not have taken an hour and 27 minutes for this information to come to me through proper channels. I’ve already called Napoleon on the carpet for it as well – Sam’s a senior officer. He should have made sure that Ensign Jones handled this information properly. I have already put myself on report for it and will be filing that report with Rear Admiral Sally Reeves before the end of the day. She will report the breach of protocol to Admiral Urban Yasutake and he will put himself on report with Star Fleet Commandant Barrett th’Zoarhi.”   
The captain tapped the table with a finger pointed toward his Engineering Director. “You too, Lieutenant Moon. Your new transporter engineer informed Dr. Jazz – who was the first person that should be notified since he was receiving the prisoner. But did Dragomut tell you?”  
Moon lowered her eyes, then looked back up at her captain. “No sir, I just now found out about it as well.”  
Captain Dolphin had a grim expression. “People, we are twelve light-years from the border of klingon space and I have to put three of my departments on report for failure to properly notify the chain of command about the presence of a klingon spy on my ship? I know we just came off nearly four weeks’ shore leave following the Trillian Insurgence, but there is no excuse for failing our security protocols so egregiously. Take a moment, clean the egg off your faces, get your training plans in place and handle this situation. I want a full report in one hour and then and not before then, I want you to wake that klingon up and bring him to my office. I already have Sam reversing the cosmetic surgery – he will be questioned as a klingon, not as a human. I will do the questioning. Gaia, I want you, T’Lon and Jones present when I do. And then we will return him to his people, as required by the Khitomer Accords. Do not allow any harm to come to him. Am I understood?”  
“Yes sir!” responded Gamor, standing up as the captain stood up and walked toward the door.

Dolphin stopped at the door and turned and looked at Investigator Buttans. “Ngumbo, you with me.”

As soon as the door into the captain’s office closed behind them, Captain Dolphin turned to Buttans, put his hand on the investigator’s shoulder and said, quietly, “Ngumbo, how could you let your boss screw up so badly? Lenny Shran would never have let Tauk or T’Lon down like that. What were you thinking?”  
Buttans took a deep breath, sighed. “I wasn’t.”   
“I was monitoring your mission down there,” Dolphin said. He stepped back and leaned against his desk. “You’re a total badass when it comes to tracking down bad guys. Look, I know you’re not Star Fleet, but I expect as much from the civilians under my command as I do from my crew…”   
Buttans didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say.

“Okay, lecture over,” said Dolphin with a sigh. “Get back to your meeting.” He looked into Buttans’ eyes. “Do better.” The captain turned, walked around his desk and sat down as the investigator exited his office.

26.11


	108. Episode 26.12 - Rain Over Rising Sun: The Dolphins of Hawaii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Starlight Dolphin has a vision of the future...
> 
>  _"...I eventually do want to settle down in Hawaii. I don’t think I’ll be going back to New York again either. But there are a lot of things I need to see for myself now.”_  
>  _“Because of your dream?” asked River Dolphin. “You know the Great Mushroom is known for giving people strange dreams that often don’t mean what they seem to mean…”_  
>  _“I read the brochure,” Starlight Dolphin observed dryly. “But I think the GM just asked me a question. And I need to go find the answer for myself. I think Dad is going to need to hear that answer from me.”_  
>  _“What question did the Great Mushroom ask you?”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> One of the many themes of this story is the concept of the terrible price. The miracle of life comes with a terrible price. The salvation of the Alpha Quadrant will exact a terrible price...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 12: The Dolphins of Hawaii

26.12  
The Dolphins of Hawaii

Starlight Dolphin sat on a folding wooden bench perched on the orange sands of the Smith Estate on Kauai Island. The canvas on the easel in front of her was blank. The brush in her hand was dry. The paints on her palette were drying – already too dry to use. She sat in the most beautiful spot in the world – a cloudless azure sky, dark orange sand. Ruby red clay on the sides of the nearby mountains that were in other areas covered with emerald green trees, the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean – and she was just staring at the blank canvas.  
Starlight’s sister, River Dolphin and Vuk Smith were planning a wedding. A Greek style arch had been moved out onto the sands and freshly repainted, blinding white. The white of purity, not the empty white of the blank canvas. White birds played along the edge of the sand – dirty white. A beach tent had been erected for Starlight to sleep under – off-white treated canvas, not blank white. Even the tent was too confining and she only slept in it when it rained or got too cold for her to sleep on a blanket on the sand.   
Starlight had eaten very little and River had taken to bringing her food to her and eating with her. She had lost weight she really didn’t need to lose. Dr. George Smith, T’Lok’s father came often to sit next to Starlight. Sometimes she missed his arrival. Sometimes she was unaware of his presence entirely. His concern was evident. She was as concerned about him as he was about her – he was a very old man now and had grown very thin. What had once been a healthy belly, was now bags of loose flesh.   
Day after day, Starlight sat and stared at the blank canvas. She rubbed her left eye occasionally – and her right arm. They were hers, but after having been removed, placed in storage for decades and then reattached, she knew they would never feel quite right again.  
It was Vuk and River’s eldest son who was getting married. And he wasn’t the first of their children to get married – there were already some grandchildren. Starlight’s attention briefly strayed from the blank canvas to her nephews and nieces – and grandnephews and grandnieces. Her much younger half-brothers both had children as well. Starlight found herself wondering how they would all fare in the lottery. Neither Vuk nor River were too old to be called to service. Surrol Smith had been, which was why he was missing.   
One in five if the average for the lottery held. But lotteries were inherently unfair. Some families were demolished. Other families were largely left alone. Everyone came back after 20 years of service – still young and expected to pick up their lives. Starlight had been a year younger than her sister. Now she was 21 years younger – at least biologically and in appearance. But while most of those who had been called to service came back, not all of the returned truly came back.   
Starlight returned her attention to the blank canvas and wondered why applying paint would improve it in any way. She vaguely recalled drawing pleasure from this activity and she set herself up for it daily. As meaningless as it was, it was the only thing that seemed to make sense to her to do. Like so many of the returned, she couldn’t stand going indoors. After decades of getting her nutrition from a tube, she had forgotten how to enjoy eating and drinking. And she hated trying to talk – it just took so long – like trying to ride a bicycle through deep mud.  
Like so many of the returned, she was caught in limbo. She did not want to go back to work. But she had forgotten how to play.

A voice called to her over and over again, “Starlight? Starlight, get up! It’s time to get up…”

Starlight sat bolt upright in a strange bed and watched the expressions on her sister’s face. Oddly, River was young again. Starlight shook her head and looked around at the pulsating colors in the carpet of mushroom. The glowing tendrils that lighted what passed for a ceiling in this room. The bed she had slept in was mushroom. Her sister was brimming with enthusiasm, her hands clasped in excitement.  
“Vuk and I are getting married!! And we’re going to have so many children…” An expression of concern crossed River’s features. “Starlight, is something wrong?”  
“This is Pillo,” Starlight mused. “We’re on Pillo…”  
“You don’t remember? We got here yesterday,” River explained. “It’s on our way back to Earth.”  
“Can we leave now?” Starlight asked. “I hate this place! Why did we ever come here??”  
“Starlight,” said River, “We came because you wanted to see this place…”  
“Can we go? Can we go away now?” Starlight grimaced. She looked around as if she were trapped. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” She looked around, her eyes focusing on the woody mushroom stems that made the walls of this room. “Why did you show me that?? I don’t want to see any more of it!”

A few hours later, River Dolphin met up with her sister again. Starlight was at a small café that served… no surprise… mushroom soup, mushroom stew, mushroom cheese, and mushroom bread with a mushroom wine. River was amazed at the variety of flavors the residents of Pillo were able to tease out of the local flora, which consisted entirely of a single, enormous mushroom that covered almost the entire planet.  
It was a rare moment when the Smith brothers, Vuk and Surrol, were off on some biological expedition outside of the city limits of Porte Abello without the Dolphin sisters.   
“We can catch an early transport back to Earth,” said River. “It will get you out of here sooner, but it won’t get us to Earth any earlier…”  
“Don’t worry about it,” Starlight replied. “I’m not going back to Earth immediately. I have booked passage with a vulcan science expedition to Cophus II, leaving this afternoon. I want to spend some time with the waterbirds. Then, after about a month, a freighter will take me back to Deep Space 9. I want to join a group of bajorans who regularly go into the wormhole to commune with their prophets. You and Vuk won’t be getting married immediately?”  
“We had planned to wait about a year to give Dad a chance to take leave – and T’Lon. She’s family too now, or next to it. Mom and Charles – and give Dad a chance to get used to the idea of seeing Mom and Charles…”  
“Be sure to get word out to me,” said Starlight. “I don’t want to miss it. And I eventually do want to settle down in Hawaii. I don’t think I’ll be going back to New York again either. But there are a lot of things I need to see for myself now.”  
“Because of your dream?” asked River. “You know the Great Mushroom is known for giving people strange dreams that often don’t mean what they seem to mean…”  
“I read the brochure,” Starlight observed dryly. “But I think the GM just asked me a question. And I need to go find the answer for myself. I think Dad is going to need to hear that answer from me.”

“What question did the Great Mushroom ask you?” There was a sound of concern in River’s voice.

Starlight looked up into her sister’s eyes: “Is it worth it?” She shrugged. “That is the question… Is it worth it?”

26.12


	109. Episode 26.13 - Rain Over Rising Sun: The Pink Kimono

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Dolphin interrogates a klingon spy under moderate pressure...
> 
>  _The prisoner landed hard in the chair again and wheezed, trying to recover his breath._  
>  _“That would be Lieutenant Commander Gaia Gamor, my second officer,” said Dolphin, his back still turned to his klingon prisoner._  
>  _“pagh poHllj vo’jlH!”**_  
>  _“Oh but you have already told me everything,” Dolphin replied..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> How much pressure is allowable during interrogation would have to be negotiated. Torture would not make a klingon talk, but a little big of pressure at the right moment could take him off guard enough for a good interrogator to read hidden emotions...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 13: The Pink Kimono

26.13  
The Pink Kimono

“You’re not Imperial Intelligence. You’re no warrior.”

Captain Kenneth Dolphin’s back was to the door as the klingon spy was brought in, dressed in a pink kimono.

“Suvwl’ wej DaSovchugh vaj Ho’ HaSta wa’!”*  
  
Dolphin did not turn around. For a long moment, the klingon in the pink kimono stood, looking at the back of the captain’s head. Thick, curly blonde hair.  
Exactly 17 seconds later, in an explosion of violence, the klingon was slammed into the chair facing the captain’s desk. In a single, flowing movement, Lt. Cmdr. Gamor had placed a knee in the soft part of the klingon’s groin, then a fist up under the soft spot just under belly, her other fist to his neck just under the chin and then smashed her forehead against his nose. The klingon grunted as he landed hard in the chair. He surged back out of the chair only to have all the air forcibly removed from his lungs as Gamor’s knee intersected with his lower rib cage. He landed hard in the chair again and wheezed, trying to recover his breath.  
“That would be Lieutenant Commander Gaia Gamor, my second officer,” said Dolphin, his back still turned to the klingon.  
“pagh poHllj vo’jlH!”**  
“Oh but you have already told me everything,” Dolphin replied. “You’ve been goading the local Earth First groups to take down the satellite defense network, ostensibly so they can make some pathetic space-based attack on the major cities of Rising Sun, probably with a mass accelerator. We’re mapping the Potato Moon now. Since it is the closest of the four moons, and by far the smallest with almost no gravity and no useful minerals, it would be optimal platform for a mass accelerator. Not that you care. You want that satellite defense grid down so the house you are working for can launch a successful raid on an established Federation colony. You’re here to start a war and gain power within the empire.”  
“You must return me to the empire,” the klingon said. “Khitomer Accords.”  
Captain Dolphin’s back remained firmly turned toward his prisoner. “Not intelligence. Not a warrior. Not a lawyer. I do not have to return you to the empire. I am required to turn you over to my superiors, who will, in turn, pass you along to be interviewed by Star Fleet Intelligence before being handed over to the Federation Council, there to be transferred to the diplomatic core and returned directly to the high council on Qo'noS. And there, because you are not authorized to conduct covert operations on behalf of the empire, you will be tried for treason against the empire. The dishonor of your death will bring down not only your house, but also the house you are working for. Your patron - you have ruined his plans.”  
The klingon took a quick breath.  
Dolphin whirled in his chair, brilliant blue eyes fixed on his prisoner. “HER plans?.. That narrows it down to two pretenders… You really are exceptionally bad at being a spy,” Dolphin said.   
The klingon surged out of his chair again only to be slammed to the floor in an explosion of violence as Lt. Cmdr. Gaia Gamor neatly flipped his foot out from under him while simultaneously turning his arm in a direction it was not meant to go, causing him to follow his arm into a full body flip. Gamor landed on one knee on her victim’s stomach and drove the palm of her hand upward into his chin, smacking the back of his head against the deck plating. 

“I’ve been telling people for years about how you placed in the semi-finals in krav maga at the academy,” said Dolphin. “3rd degree black belt?”   
“Rumi just certified me as a 7th degree black belt,” Gamor replied. “I need to update my personnel file.”  
“If only Sagittarius could see you now. He already has a massive crush on you…”  
Gamor laughed and started to get up.  
“No,” Dolphin added. “Keep him there.”  
The klingon under her shook his head and started to lift his arms, only to have Gamor land on her knees with one knee on each of his biceps, pinning his arms. Her palm was flat on his forehead, pinning his head to the deck as well. 

Dolphin walked around his desk, leaned down and whispered in Gamor’s ear - “Sage would be so envious…”  
Gamor lightly thumped Dolphin’s chest with the back of her free hand, causing him to make an “oooff” noise. He stepped back and chuckled, then turned his attention to the klingon.  
“Not a warrior. Not a spy. Not a lawyer. You are doing everything the wrong way, not following the rules. A petaQ!*** There is only one way to avoid the mountain of dishonor you have brought upon yourself…” Dolphin paused for effect. “Request asylum. You can stay here in the Federation - well - not here, but we will find a place for you and word of your death will reach the empire. Nothing glorious - that would arouse suspicion. A humdrum industrial accident. But because of it, your family and your sponsor would suffer no disgrace from your monumental failure.”  
Captain Dolphin turned his attention to Lt. T’Lon and Ensign Eykirros Jones, who had been sitting quietly, observing this interrogation being conducted by the only two members of the U.S.S. Hunter's crew who were exclusively human. “Take him to the back room. Give him fifteen minutes to think about things, then question him. If he does not ask for asylum in fifteen minutes, or if he does but you are not satisfied with his answers, we will turn him over to Star Fleet Intelligence.”  
Lt. T’Lon was the only person in the room who was armed. She drew the phaser from her belt.   
Gamor sprang to her feet. “On your feet, petaQ! You’re not injured.”  
The klingon clambered to his feet and adjusted the pink kimono he had been clothed in. At a motion from the scarred vulcan ground operations director - or more precisely, a motion of her phaser, he turned toward the door.  
“Jones,” said Dolphin.  
Ensign Jones paused, turned toward her captain.  
“Get the petaQ some different clothing. The kimono is for warriors. He disgraces it.”

_*Suvwl’ wej DaSovchugh vaj Ho’ HaSta wa’ (thlingn Hol – You would not know a warrior if one punched you in the teeth.)_

_** pagh poHllj vo’jlH (thlingn Hol – You get nothing from me.)_

_*** petaQ (thlingn Hol – non-conformist (an insult, generally considered an obscenity))_

26.13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character Name: James White (real name unknown)  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Unknown  
> Introduced: Episode 26.13  
> Age when introduced: 35  
> Role: Spy, Mercenary


	110. Episode 26.14 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Dream Council

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Johnny Canada uses the Dream Weaver to bring together the leaders of the Federation, the Romulan Star Empire and New Romulus on Vulcan for an emergency meeting...
> 
>  _Ambassador Alexander Rozhenko looked around the room. “I bring you these words from Chancellor Martok: War with the Klingon Empire is coming. Prepare yourselves.”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The klingons really haven't played much of a role in Star Trek Hunter until now. Chancellor Martok is the reason. They've been minding their own business, rebuilding their resources...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 14: Council of Dreams

26.14  
Council of Dreams

Sela, the Supreme Commander of the Romulan Star Navy, found herself sitting in the same overstuffed armchair she had been in when she had met Shiva. But this time the room was different - it was the hollow, empty room on the U.S.S. Ark where she had met with the leaders of the Federation. And seated in an armchair next to her was Federation President Emory Ivonovic. The only other woman in this room was Former Federation President Maria Rodriguez, currently the Federation Ambassador to the Romulan Empire. Sela also recognized the 1st Proconsul of the Senate of New Romulus on Vulcan, Vruncleel. The blind Emperor of Andoria, Sin IV was also present, as was the Bolian Web Executive Planning Commissioner, Xagg Boles and Earth Gov Chief Counsel, Ushi Irons.  
Sela had met Chief Justice Julian Bashir only once and the man next to him she knew only by name - Johnny - but not what his role was. The other men in the room she recognized from seeing video of them - the Klingon Ambassador to the Federation, Alexander Rozhenko, and the commanding officer of the U.S.S. Hunter, Captain Kenneth Dolphin.  
In addition to this odd collection of dignitaries, more than a thousand nikamsitiri were present, including their ambassador to the Romulan Empire, Krast.

“You may be wondering why I summoned all of you here,” said Justice Bashir. “I would never have dared to do this until Johnny here discovered the secret to securing our dream space from Shiva. Shiva is so powerful in this realm, even with all of us gathered, she could overwhelm us with a nightmare. Bringing us together like this would create too tempting a target. But it is critical we share information now.”  
“What gives you the authority to summon us here this way?” Sela asked with no small amount of anger.  
“The ability to and the need to,” Bashir responded evenly. “All of you are aware of the doom that faces us, but there are several pieces in motion that only a few of you are aware of that we all need to know about. And the one person who is the nexus of all this knowledge is not me. It is Johnny Canada, who, in his role as the Deputy Director of Field Operations for the City of Trantor Police Intelligence Division, has managed to develop an overall picture of the threats facing the Alpha Quadrant - and therefore the City of Trantor.”  
“Please forget Justice Bashir’s introduction,” said Canada. “I am just Johnny. We are all aware of the advancing gamma wave front that will, over the next 4,000 years, exterminate all life in this part of the galaxy. All of our species will become extinct and everything we know will be dead. The species that faces the most immediate threat are standing all around us - the nikamsitiri. They are also the reason it is possible for us to meet this way. I discovered, quite by accident, that although I do not have the strength to keep Shiva out of my dreams, they, collectively, do. And Shiva is terrified of what these birds can do to her in her dreams.”  
Canada turned his attention to Sela. “Supreme Commander Sela, how many of the nikamsitiri have you been able to rescue?” 

Sela did not even want to admit the existence of the nikamsitiri, much less that the Romulan Star Navy was working furiously to rescue them. But she had no idea how much Johnny Canada knew and she desperately wanted intelligence from the other people in this room. She took a deep breath. “Not even a million yet out of nearly 11 billion. The gamma wave front is less than 14 years from striking their planet.”  
“How adaptable are they to new environments?” Canada asked.  
“Amazingly so,” Sela replied. “We have placed them on every populated or even nearly suitable planet in the old empire. They seem to be able to adapt to eat pretty much anything and they are remarkable farmers. But even maximizing the habitats we have available for them, we cannot support more than 2-3 billion.”  
“President Ivonovic,” said Canada, turning his attention to the Federation President. “Can habitats be made available within the Federation?”  
“The Colony of New Hope alone might support as many as 2 billion,” Ivonovic replied. “We have a lot of worlds they could live on. We can find homes for them. It will be hard at first, but it can be done. How neighborly are they?”  
“They’re fitting in well with the societies we have brought them into,” Sela replied. “They make remarkably good police officers and seem to understand legal concepts quickly. One of the biggest problems with moving them is simply logistics. We can only support maybe 10,000 on a battlegod class ship.”  
“We should be able to carry almost 10 million per trip on an Atlas class planetary rescue craft,” said Ivonovic.   
“Now the two of you can negotiate that out and the leaders who need to know about it have already heard,” said Johnny. “New topic.”

Canada turned his attention to Dolphin. “You have more knowledge about the effort to bring the borg into the Alpha Quadrant than anyone else here. Can you update us, Captain Dolphin?”  
“I have to assume everyone here knows that Star Fleet has a new division that reports directly to Commandant th’Zoarhi - Star Fleet Temporal Command,” said Dolphin. “Rear Admiral Sarekson Carrera is the director. He has visited the borg in several parts of our galaxy, with an emphasis on their greatest concentration in the Beta Quadrant. Before Admiral Janeway collapsed their transwarp conduit and killed the borg queen, Rear Admiral Carrera estimates there were nearly a trillion borg in the Beta Quadrant alone. He now estimates their population throughout our galaxy to be less than a hundred billion. That may sound like a lot of borg, but it is, according to Dr. Carrera, nowhere near enough to repair the great machine - the so-called Hulk - in time to protect the Alpha Quadrant from the oncoming gamma wave front. They also lack cohesion. The borg are disorganized and are losing badly to a large number of enemies they once dominated. Dr. Carrera plans to bring all of them here, but he did not give me a timeline.”  
“What ideas does he have to increase their cohesion and effectiveness sufficiently to protect all of us?” asked Chief Justice Bashir.  
“When I saw him last, he said and I quote, ‘We’ll think of something’,” Dolphin replied.

“Captain Dolphin,” Jonny asked, “What it the operational readiness status of Star Fleet?”  
Dolphin looked at Federation President Ivonovic. “I am not authorized to comment on that in present company…”  
“You are now,” Ivonovic said.  
“Star Fleet was never designed to be a military force,” Dolphin said.  
This comment drew guffaws, snorts and open laughter from various parts of the room.   
“I said it was never meant to be…” Dolphin repeated, emphasizing the word ‘meant.’ “It was also never meant to be a police force, but that is what we have morphed into. We have always relied on the member world home fleets to provide primary planetary protection for our member worlds. Those ships are now often on mission and planetary protection has come to rely largely on home-based interceptor wings and satellite networks. The Fall of Vulcan demonstrated the vulnerability of these systems when there are no capital ships present for primary defense.”  
“Is Star Fleet ready for a major war?” asked Johnny.  
“When have we ever been?” Dolphin asked. “I wouldn’t want to fight one given our current force configuration, but I would seriously discourage anyone from trying.”  
Canada turned toward Vruncleel. “How about New Romulus at Vulcan?”  
Vruncleel answered levelly. “We have a lot of very powerful ships and a relatively small area to protect…”  
“And how long could you feed your people without Earth and Bajor?” Canada asked.  
“Less than two years unless we were to find other resources,” said Vruncleel. “And that would involve reducing everyone to starvation levels of food. We’re hopeful about restarting life in the Regar Sea, but even if that experiment is successful, it will be decades before we could begin to use that as a food source. If the Federation were seriously threatened, we would have to assist,” he concluded.  
Canada turned to Emperor Sin IV. “And the Andorian Empire?”  
“We are recovering from what amounts to a minor civil war,” said the blind emperor. “But we have plenty of reserve strength to protect our people within the Federation and supplement Star Fleet in the protection of the Federation. Additionally, we have recently begun coordinating our fleet upgrades with the Vulcan High Command in Exile, which will significantly increase our ability to assist.”  
Canada turned toward the elderly bolian executive planner. “Executive Planner Boles, what about the Bolian Web?”  
“Our fleet is very powerful,” said Xagg Boles. “But not very fast. We are building a new generation of war ships to assist Star Fleet, but it will be a few years before they come online.”  
Canada turned to Sela. “And the Romulan Empire?”  
Sela sighed. She had no desire to explain the empire’s force readiness situation, but no one had said anything she wasn’t already aware of. And a similar high-level overview about the empire would hold no surprises for these people.  
“We know what we need to protect and we know where the gamma wave fronts are within the empire,” said Sela. “Any invading force would be at a tremendous strategic disadvantage. Unless that force were either Star Fleet or the Klingon Empire, both of whom have sufficient intelligence on the gamma waves to counter that strategic advantage. We are particularly vulnerable along the klingon border, which is why we keep the majority of our forces stationed in that area.”

Canada took an enormous breath. “To sum it up, the United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire have paper borders - lots of vulnerabilities and nowhere near enough military assets to protect them from a powerful, determined aggressor.” He turned toward Ambassador Rozhenko. “Ambassador?”

Rozhenko was 1/4 human and his looks, while mostly klingon, betrayed some human features. “Chancellor Martok has kept the Klingon Empire out of war since the end of the War with the Dominion. Nearly 20 years - one of the longest peacetimes in the history of the empire. We have prospered. We have rebuilt our fleet with an entirely new class of warship. The Klingon Empire has never been so strong. Our warriors have never been so restless. There is much grumbling about the growing cooperation between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. And the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire have never looked so weak. And Chancellor Martok, the only man capable of keeping our noble houses in check, is now the oldest naturalborn klingon in history. A dozen potential successors are positioning themselves to take Martok’s place. Whichever of them eventually does, will do so on the promise of spoils to our warriors and their noble houses.”

Ambassador Alexander Rozhenko looked around the room. “I bring you these words from Chancellor Martok: War with the Klingon Empire is coming. Prepare yourselves.”

26.14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Alexander Rozhenko  
> Human Ethnicity: African American  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: New Eden, Mars  
> Introduced: Episode 26.14  
> Age when introduced: 36  
> Role: Ambassador to the Federation


	111. Episode 26.15 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Satellites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Dolphin holds a planning meeting for a daring double raid to catch the Earth First terrorists red-handed and roll up their leadership...
> 
>  _Dolphin looked down and to his left swiftly - drew a breath between his clenched teeth with a hiss, instantly furious._  
>  _He looked back up. The collective blood pressure in the room had spiked. “What was that?” he snapped..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> One of the most difficult transitions in life is going from being the co-worker to being the boss. Theatrics and genuine emotion are required in equal measure..  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 15: Satellites

26.15  
Satellites

A holographic model of the Potato Moon revolved slowly above the antique teak table in the executive conference room of the U.S.S. Hunter. The Potato Moon was the closest and smallest of the four moons of Rising Sun. To the naked eye from the planet it seemed like little more than a dim star - or a distant planet. Viewed through a telescope from the planet, it looked like a potato - hence the name. The moon was so small that a man of average mass wearing a full EVA suit could launch himself into orbit with a running high jump. A skilled pole vaulter might achieve escape velocity.  
The Hunter’s senior and executive staff were seated around the table, with the exception of Lt. Cmdr. Napoleon Boles (who was in command). The Ground Operations Department was also present, along with Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq, Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper, Midshipman Carlos Datsun and the assistant engineering director, 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui.  
Hunter, the ship’s holographic avatar, was also seated at the table. Captain Dolphin had encouraged the ship to participate fully as a member of the crew.

“Captain, I never got a chance to apologize…” started Ensign Eykirros Jones.  
“I’m done talking about that,” Captain Kenneth Dolphin replied with a no-nonsense tone. “That was a wakeup call.” He looked around the room, into the eyes of his crew. “I assume everyone is awake?”  
Some crew members nodded. There was a smattering of responses - “Yes sir…”  
Dolphin looked down and to his left swiftly - drew a breath between his clenched teeth with a hiss, instantly furious.  
He looked back up. The collective blood pressure in the room had spiked. “What was that?” he snapped.  
“Yes sir!” This time the response was in unison and very definitive.  
“Then let’s move on,” said Dolphin, his demeanor immediately relaxed and amiable, if businesslike. There was almost a palpable breath as the tension in the room dissipated. “This mission will involve the entire crew, but the primary risk will fall on the away teams, which will consist of everyone in this room with the exception of me, Dr. Moon, Dr. Jazz and Hunter. Lieutenant Commander Gamor - this is your mission. Please continue.”  
The Hunter’s 2nd Officer picked up the narrative. “We have intelligence on an operation that will be carried out by several Earth First cells working in tandem. They have constructed a mass accelerator on the Potato Moon and have dug up two large masses from the moon, weighing an estimated 10,000 tons each. Their plan is to capture the control satellite for the satellite defense grid, take the grid offline, and then launch these two 10,000 ton rocks from the Potato Moon to strike Soda Toer. It would destabilize the archipelago, making it uninhabitable for decades. Nearly 400 million people live there now and the Soda Toer Archipelago has the largest concentration of non-humans and human hybrids on the planet - making it a tempting target for Earth First. We estimate the casualties from this attack would number in the hundreds of millions. Many of the terrorists are from off planet and no doubt plan to go forward from this to create more mass murders. It would mean a lot if we can capture their leaders here before their plan comes to fruition.”  
“The klingons got involved in resourcing this operation and are, no doubt, far more interested in the planetary defense grid coming down. If their plan succeeds, a klingon strike force arriving ahead of Star Fleet could take over the colony under the guise of restoring order.”  
“One of the advantages of the terrorist cell structure for them is that it is difficult for one cell to give up another since their knowledge of each other is extremely limited,” Gamor continued. “But as Rumi says, if you hide behind a shield, I can hide from you on the other side of it. We have captured several high level operatives, but the cells appear to be unaware of that and are, according to our sources on the ground and the telemetry we have been keeping on them from orbit, moving forward with their plans. We will take out the assault groups on the Potato Moon and the ASDRI Planetary Defense control satellite. The Soda Toer Port Authority will conduct raids on the command and control groups planetside. This gives us the opportunity to roll up a majority of the Earth First operation on Rising Sun...”

26.15


	112. Episode 26.16 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Potato Gun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The U.S.S. Hunter's crew begin daring raids against Earth First terrorists on the Potato Moon and the Avradega Defense control satellite...
> 
>  _“Hit them, Geoff,” said Boles._  
>  _Ensign Alstars quickly destroyed first the single phaser cannon, then the shield generators, then the power generators, then the batteries. “Confirmed facility-wide power failure,” he reported._  
>  _“Gaia, you have a go...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Part 1 of 2. Episode 26 is the longest in Star Trek Hunter with 21 scenes.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 16: Potato Gun

26.16  
Potato Gun

At 16:00 hours, the U.S.S. Hunter broke orbit from Rising Sun and left the system, as previously scheduled with Star Fleet planetary – a schedule that was publicly available.

At 21 hours and 3 minutes, the Hunter made an unscheduled re-entry to the system from high warp and on arrival, immediately launched the wagon, the two interceptors and the tactical unit – each of which jumped instantly to warp to arrive at a specific target. The tactical unit and the wagon came out of their short warp jump just above the Potato Moon. The two interceptors arrived at the control satellite for the planetary defense network. The Hunter platform remained where it had come out of warp – positioned so that its weaponry could simultaneously support both task groups.  
In the cockpit of Interceptor 2.A, Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq entered a code that caused the deflector shield around the control satellite to deactivate. She also deactivated the station’s life support, lighting and grav plating. 

In the tiny bridge of the tactical unit, Lt. Cmdr. Napoleon Boles was in the command chair. In front of him, Ensign Chelna Zusa was in the pilot’s seat. To her right, Ensign Geoffrey Horatio Alstars was focusing the phasers of the unit and shaping its shield bubble.  
“Zusa, put us right on top of that thing,” said Boles.  
In response, the rigellian pilot’s fingers danced across the pilot’s console, causing the tactical unit to dive toward the Potato Moon, then pull out of the dive 15 meters above a shielded building. This brought the tactical unit’s shields into direct contact with the building’s shielding. Alstars reconfigured the tactical unit’s shields, cancelling the building’s shielding.  
“We have shield congruence, sir,” said Alstars.  
“Hit them, Geoff,” said Boles.  
Ensign Alstars quickly destroyed first the single phaser cannon, then the shield generators, then the power generators, then the batteries. “Confirmed facility-wide power failure,” he reported.  
“Gaia, you have a go,” said Boles.

The grav plating in the operation staging area – the rear compartment of the wagon – was at a minimal setting – just enough to keep the six crew members clad in full EVA suits standing on the deck. At the word from the Hunter’s first officer, the second officer, Lt. Cmdr. Gaia Gamor said, “Visors down,” and closed the visor on her EVA suit. Her five companions – 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves and his tactical squad – followed suit.  
“Energize!”  
The wagon’s staging area vanished around Gamor and her task group, to be replaced by a darkened corridor. As they arrived, the crew members crouched, in a planned first move. It was a good first move as a disruptor beam passed through the space their heads had just occupied.   
“Break and attack,” Gamor ordered quietly. She and tactical specialists Veri Geki and Ranni Neivi launched in one direction down the corridor as Lt. Tolon, Tactical Specialist Daserae Eba and Chief Rumi Grace sprang in the opposite direction. The corridor was dark, but the Hunter’s EVA visors included infrared and other features, allowing the Hunter’s crew members to see the limits of the room and identify their quarry.   
The inhabitants of this corridor had no such advantage – they were not dressed in EVA suits, did not have magnetic boots and did not have visors of any sort. With the power suddenly cut off to their facility, they were blind and nearly weightless. One of them was shouting “Don’t shoot!! Don’t shoot!!” Others were firing disruptors blindly, not realizing their attackers were all now close to the ceiling. Within seconds, the five humans who had been in this corridor when the Hunter’s crew arrived were stunned, marked with locator pins and beamed into brig units aboard the U.S.S. Hunter.  
The Hunter’s crew activated their magnetic boots, causing them to be attracted to the nearest metal surface. They reorganized themselves on the ceiling and headed deeper into the facility, walking in single file along the ceiling.

26.16


	113. Episode 26.17 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Planetary Defense Grid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The U.S.S. Hunter's raid on Earth First terrorists from Rising Sun draws to its conclusion... Just as the klingons show up...
> 
>  _“What nonsense is…” the klingon captain started, then a female officer came up and whispered in her ear. In response, the captain almost spat out in her native language: “Hoch Duj ghor bav! yo’SeH…”_  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 17: Planetary Defense Grid

26.17  
Planetary Defense Grid

At the same time Gaia Gamor and her group were raiding the facility on the Potato Moon, Lt. T’Lon and her team were beaming over to the control satellite for the planetary defense grid. The grav plating in the U.S.S. Hunter’s transporter room #1 was turned off and the 2nd task force, consisting of Lt. T’Lon, 2nd Lt. Sun Ho Hui, Ensign Eykirros Jones, Investigator Buttans Ngumbo and Special Agent Anana Lynarr, all clad in full EVA suits, were attached to the transporter pad by their magnetic boots.  
They beamed over to the satellite seconds after the grav plating, lighting and life support went down. A number of bodies had been piled in the satellite’s transporter room / cargo bay. Andorians. Eight of them.  
“It appears our terrorists have been instructed to shoot to kill,” said Anana.   
“Jones, Lynarr – secure Optics and Deflector Control,” said T’Lon. “Sun, Buttans – with me.” Each member of the task force made their way to the ceiling, then magnetized their boots and walked along the ceiling. Lt. T’Lon and Ensign Jones were the first to exit the cargo bay and were fired upon immediately. Buttans Ngumbo rocketed out below them in a tumbling motion and fired in each direction as he tumbled, stunning attackers on either end of the hall. He waited for Lt. Sun to exit the cargo bay, then took up position behind him, re-magnetizing his boots to walk along the ceiling.  
Moments later, T’Lon, Sun and Buttans were in the main control room of the satellite, their EVA helmets and gloves off and floating nearby, attached by lanyards to their EVA suits. Lights and life support had been restored, but not gravity, which was emphasized by the condition of several unconscious (and now shackled and disarmed) humans that were floating about. Buttans had lashed them together and occasionally moved them to keep them from bumping into his crewmates.  
“I have full control of the planetary defense network,” said Lt. Sun.  
“Power up all the weapons and set the grid to automatically target any vessel in orbit, including ours,” T’Lon ordered. “Kenny, Napoleon, Hopper, Grorher, Thyssi… Be advised - the planetary satellite defense grid is going hot at alert level 2. Please power down all weapon systems now.”

\- * -

In a large hangar in the Potato Moon facility, Lt. Cmdr. Gamor and her group were in a pitched phaser battle around a large machine. Their job now was to protect Lt. Tolon from all attackers as he crawled about inside the machine, setting charges. Unlike the forces they had encountered earlier, this group was heavily armed and trained for low G combat.   
“They’re set!” came Tolon’s voice. “Get us out of here, Carlos!!!”   
The Hunter’s task force was beamed out and the tactical unit and the wagon broke orbit of the Potato Moon just as an explosion nearly ripped the facility on the moon’s surface in half, sending up a spray of debris that included a few bodies in partial EVA suits.

\- * -

About ten minutes after the twin assaults began and just moments after the explosion on the Potato Moon, four klingon birds of prey and one Vor’cha class cruiser decloaked in orbit of Rising Sun. Two of the birds of prey were near the master control satellite, two near the Potato Moon, and the cruiser appeared almost on top of the U.S.S. Hunter, dwarfing it.  
On the Hunter’s bridge, Captain Kenneth Dolphin was in the captain’s chair. “Hail them,” he said to navigator Auqa’rh’lth, currently standing watch at the tactical/communication station behind the captain. Within seconds the image of a tall, lean and impressively stern-looking female klingon warrior appeared on the Hunter’s main viewscreen.

“This is the U.S.S. Hunter, Kenneth Dolphin commanding,” Dolphin said. “Please allow me to apologize on behalf of planetary operations. We are experiencing problems with the planetary defense network and it is currently on a default setting, targeting all ships in orbit, including mine. Please do not power your weapons as this could cause the defense grid to malfunction further and begin firing on your ships. It would be helpful if you could break orbit and reschedule your visit. We hope to have the problem resolved within the next 20 minutes...”

“What nonsense is…” the klingon captain started, then a female officer came up and whispered in her ear. In response, the captain almost spat out in her native language: “Hoch Duj ghor bav!* yo’SeH…**” then turned her head sharply and almost shrieked – apparently at another officer, “DoH Se’ SoQ!!!***” Her image vanished from the Hunter’s viewscreen. Only a few heartbeats later, the klingon ships cloaked and faded from view.

_*Hoch Duj ghor bav! – All ships break orbit!_

_**yo’SeH… - Cancel…_

_*** DoH Se’ SoQ!!! – Shut off that frequency!!!_

26.17


	114. Episode 26.18 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Prepare the Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> On Saketh, a variant of the Shiva cult emerges - Shiva the Devourer is to be replaced by Shiva the Life Giver in an appropriately blood thirsty ceremony...
> 
>  _Most of the crowd – far more than a thousand – broke ranks and fled in terror. The mogu mogo, even though they had no legs, were able to move very quickly across these black salt sands. Those who ran found that the camp was surrounded by even more of these large, deadly snakes..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I kind of wrote myself into a corner with the Shiva story thread. The only way out of this religion is through. Appropriately, Johnny has chosen to fight religion with religion...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 18: Prepare the Way

26.18  
Prepare the Way

Philomo woke from the strangest of prophetic dreams. Shiva had appeared in a new form – a bearded form. A new voice. A new direction. And this Shiva appeared not as a hemra, but as a romulan. Philomo knew it was still Shiva because the vision remained as clear in his head as it was in the dream. The words ran anew in his head – as Shiva’s words always had:  
“You are my high priest. You are the first to see beyond Shiva the Devourer. I am Shiva the Life Bringer. I came to you as Shiva the Devourer to prepare the ending of this world. But our work does not end with the end of this world – it only begins there. Shiva the Devourer is of Saketh and will remain on Saketh. The priests of Shiva the Devourer must not be allowed to defile the new worlds we will build out of the wreck of Saketh.”  
“As the Devourer, I appeared to you in the guise of a hemra and my familiar who watches over the followers of the Devourer is the dreaded mogu mogo. But you, Philomo, will be protected by the familiars of the Life Bringer. They will herald your appearance as you will herald mine. They will be the guardians of your dreams. They will not allow the followers of the Devourer to thwart your deeds. They will not allow the Devourer to re-enter your dreams. They will not allow the mogu mogo to harm you.”

The next evening, as instructed, Philomo emerged from his tent and called his followers to assembly.  
The traveling black salt mining operation had transformed dramatically since the early days with Ru’us. All non-believers, romulan and hemra alike, had been stripped, striped and sent to their deaths on the black sand in the full heat of day. With an influx of believers – both romulan and hemra – the traveling camp had been transformed into a pirate operation, complete with sand schooners, hovermounts and fighter aircraft.  
Using this force, Philomo had established his operation as the only source of the coveted black salt. Mining the black salt desert was a job few wanted anyway and there was no real opposition to this wealth being controlled and the salt mines being exclusively operated by the followers of Shiva.

It was late evening and the black sands had finally cooled enough for Philomo’s people to assemble.   
Philomo did not have to wait long for silence and stillness among his followers. As high priest, the disciplines he handed down were even more cruel and more harsh than those he had delivered when he was the slavemaster. These people were here to submit to his word – romulan and hemra alike. “Ru’us of the Desert came to you to proclaim Shiva the Devourer, who comes to end this world. Prepare the way for Shiva!”   
“Prepare the way for the Devourer!” came the appropriately shouted response.  
“And across this world, the word of the Devourer has spread and across this world our people prepare for the end of this world. But I come before you with a new word and a new destiny. The end of this world is not the end of our labors. It is their beginning. We few have been chosen to prepare not for the end of this world, but beyond that, the creation not of a new world, but of three new worlds. The followers of Shiva the Devourer must die with this world, they may not come to the worlds that are to be made. But you are followers of Shiva the Devourer no longer. You are followers of Shiva the Life Bringer! And a new word must come from your mouths: Prepare the way for the Life Bringer!”  
Philomo could see the terror in the eyes of his followers. But they were more terrified of the romulan they had known all this time than they were of a god only a few of them had seen once in a dream.  
“Prepare the way for the Life Bringer…” the response was more than a little timid and far from unanimous. 

Philomo knew well who his most trusted and devout followers were and he had given them a job to do. He raised his hands: “You are consecrated anew as the people of Shiva the Life Bringer. Tonight, if you remain a follower of the Devourer, your life will be taken from you. Stand before me proud and fearless if you feel the light of the Life Bringer in your heart. Or let fear take you!”

At those words, Philomo’s most devout followers set loose well over a thousand mogu mogo that had been kept in captivity. Hundreds of these large, poisonous snakes slithered eagerly toward the crowd gathered before Philomo. Only a few hundred romulans and hemra stood their ground, terrified, well aware that if any of these snakes attacked them, it would poison them and begin burrowing into their bodies.  
Most of the crowd – far more than a thousand – broke ranks and fled in terror. The mogu mogo, even though they had no legs, were able to move very quickly across these black salt sands. Those who ran found that the camp was surrounded by even more of these large, deadly snakes.   
Those few hundred who stood their ground watched the first line of snakes coil and leap from the ground to attack them, only to be cut down by highly accurate disrupter pulses from far above. Each pulse that came from the skies hit and destroyed a mogu mogo – often in mid jump. Again and again, those who stood fast were saved by hyper-accurate fire from the skies. These heavenly disruptor beams fell silent after destroying all of the mogu mogo that had threatened what remained of Philomo’s congregation. With the celestial disruptors silent, they could more clearly hear the screams of those who had fled as they were attacked, poisoned and their organs consumed alive by mogu mogo.

Philomo waited nearly fifteen minutes in silence, savoring the screams of torment of those of his followers who did not have the faith and courage to stand with him and their fellow travelers to face the mogu mogo.  
“Ru’us of the Desert brought you the mogu mogo and as followers of the Devourer, you dutifully surrendered yourselves to the ravages of the desert snake. On behalf of the Life Bringer, I bring you not a master, but an ally. We are no longer the people of the mogu mogo. We are the people of the nikamsitiri! The people of the skies!!”  
With that, birds glided down from the evening sky – nearly 500 of them. Each bird was armed with a disruptor attached to its beak. Most of these birds were a little over twice the size of a terrestrial crow – making them about the size of a harpy eagle or a condor. But a few were much larger and the largest of these, almost the size of an ostrich, landed next to Philomo. The enormous bird first bent over and released the disruptor from his beak, setting it on the ground, then picked it up with one foot and secured it in a holster attached to his other leg.  
The bird walked up and stood next to Philomo, then turned his head, eyeing the mingled birds, romulans and hemra. He opened his beak and with a loud, oddly deep voice said, “Well met, followers of Shiva, the Bringer of Life! Well met again, High Priest Philomo! Prepare the way for the Life Bringer!”  
This time the response was deafening – romulans, hemra and nikamsitiri in unison – “Prepare the way for the Life Bringer!!!”

26.18


	115. Episode 26.19 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Stone Grip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Meanwhile, way out in the Gamma Quadrant, a mysterious ship pursues a mysterious asteroid for something embedded in the stone...  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A new character who will become pivotal for the end of the story...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 19: Stone Grip

26.19  
Stone Grip

A small ship decloaked in the Gamma Quadrant, tens of thousands of light years away from the Federation and its concerns. A tall, thin figure, clad in a full EVA suit stepped out of the port airlock and, using magnetic boots, walked over the top of the ship to far edge of the starboard wing, then hopped down to attach those boots to the top of the starboard nacelle.   
The small, scout-class ship gradually matched speeds with an even smaller asteroid – about twice the size of the person standing on the starboard nacelle. The space walker demagnetized one boot at a time, then kicked off lightly and captured the asteroid by an inline handle in a single piece of curved metal that barely protruded from its rocky surface. Most of it was covered with rock. This landing caused the asteroid to spin away from the scout ship.  
Instead of turning to pursue, the scout ship veered away and raised its deflector screens – a slight visual distortion as the shields went up.

The tiny figure on the tiny asteroid drew a small disruptor and focused a fine beam on the asteroid, slicing off chunks of rock – first large chunks, then smaller and smaller chunks, working in a methodical pattern. After nearly an hour of this delicate work in space, the space walker had whittled the remaining piece of stone with the handle down to a chunk slightly less than half the size of an average man. The walker tethered this stone by its handle to a hook protruding from the hip of the EVA suit.

The disruptor returned to its holster and the scout ship returned to the space walker and lowered its deflector screens. With a few very slight jets of gas the space walker re-aligned with the ship and used magnetic boots to land firmly on the starboard wing and started walking toward the port airlock.

26.19


	116. Episode 26.21 - Rain Over Rising Sun: The Atlas Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Bolian Web is helping Star Fleet and the first class of Star Fleet ships to be built outside of Earth's solar system is nearing completion. And they are the most ambitious ships Star Fleet has ever attempted...  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> These are planetary rescue craft capable of moving mountains...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 21: The Atlas Class

26.21  
The Atlas Class

The Atlas class ships under construction in geosynchronous orbit of the bolian homeworld were so large that each saucer section appeared from the ground to be a tiny moon, creating the odd and rather spooky illusion of a grid of 12 tiny moons – 3 by 4. The three cigar-shaped engineering hulls were being constructed in another part of the sky – also in geosynchronous orbit and visible from the planet.   
Most bolians were understandably proud of this monumental technological achievement. Only a few protested that building these monstrosities required nearly hollowing out two moons in the outer solar system – removing so much mass that the moons’ orbits had to be adjusted and other debris removed. Long term studies were underway to determine the impact this change in mass and orbits would have on comets and other bodies passing near the outer planets.

Few bolians were thinking about that tonight. Tonight, every bolian that could be outdoors to view the spectacle was outdoors. Millions had traveled half-way around their world to be able to see this unprecedented event. Millions more had come in from various colonies and the hundreds of other worlds to watch through telescopes from the planet’s surface.  
The Vulcan Science Academy had gone to the length of reprogramming the weather control satellites so that an entire hemisphere could watch through cloudless skies. Tens of thousands more watched from various space-borne platforms.

Gradually, one of the three cigar shaped engineering hulls pulled away from the other two. Then one of the enormous saucer sections left the grid and approximately five minutes later it joined with the engineering hull. For a moment, the gigantic vessel looked somewhat like a traditional Star Fleet design until a second saucer section attached itself, upside down on the underside of the engineering hull. Then a third saucer attached itself to the other end of the engineering hull – then finally the fourth saucer section connected underneath the third. This final configuration had the odd effect of making the ship look like a celestial version of an antique formula race car with gigantic wheels.  
Then the odd looking, giant spacecraft gradually flew away as, all over the Bolian homeworld, the announcement rang out: “This is Executive Web Planner Xagg Boles. I am proud to announce that the U.S.S. Atlas, Registry number Navy-Bolian Web Craft 1002, has successfully launched and is now leaving the Bolarus star system. We are proud to announce that more than 70% of the crew of the U.S.S. Atlas is bolian, tipping the scales: There are now more bolians currently commissioned or enlisted in Star Fleet than any other non-human species…”

26.21


	117. Episode 26.20 - Rain Over Rising Sun: Napoleon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vice Admiral Riker does not approve of Commander Napoleon Boles...

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 20: Commander Napoleon

26.20  
Commander Napoleon

“Admiral Yasutake wanted me to do this since there are no senior JAG officers at this conference. Not that I approve. The Hunter’s crew has a tradition of unearned promotions. Doesn’t that bother you, Commander?” Vice Admiral William Riker’s tone was more than a little dismissive. “You didn’t even take the Commander’s exam. Your captain got his command because of his friendship with President Ivonovic. And now you’re getting promoted thanks to pressure from your grandfather. Wouldn’t you rather earn this pip instead?”

Napoleon Boles took the small box from Admiral Riker’s hand. It contained a single, solid platinum rank pip. “I don’t really care about this promotion. Or your test. So you have to be willing to send your friends to their deaths? I’ve seen enough friends die.”   
Napoleon’s tone was casual - more casual than Admiral Riker would have preferred for a line officer in the presence of a vice admiral.  
“You’re not supposed to know what that test is,” Riker said. “Whoever told you that should be drummed out of the service.” He watched as the half-bolian officer replaced the hollow pip on his collar with the solid one.  
“I didn’t need anyone to tell me,” Napoleon replied. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.” He placed the hollow pip he had just removed from his own collar in the small box and pocketed it.  
“There is a difference between knowing and doing,” Riker observed.  
“No disrespect, Admiral, but serving on the Hunter has been a case study in sacrifice. My former first and second officers both gave their lives - allowed themselves to be eaten alive - to save another crew member. My former captain gave up everything - family… career… became an exile from the Federation to prevent a war.”  
Riker looked at Boles skeptically. “I’ve known a lot of bolians. They’re all very charming people. What happened to you?”  
“Must be my humanity,” Boles replied wryly. “I am only half bolian.”  
Riker laughed in spite of himself. “Well you do have some stones, Commander.” Riker tapped the newly added, third solid pip on Napoleon’s collar.  
“You can call me Napoleon, Admiral.”  
“What is it with that name, anyway? Why did your mother name you after a French tyrant?”  
“He was her hero. She thought the name would bring good luck. Make me tough.”  
“She was French?”  
“French-Tunesian.”  
Riker made a harrumphing noise and nodded his head slightly. “Well, maybe this will work out after all.” He straightened and smoothed his uniform, took a deep breath and let it out with a huff. “We better get back to the conference. It appears our relationship with the Klingon Empire is about to change. And not for the better. You’re going to need those stones, Napoleon.”

26.20


	118. Episode 26.22 - Rain Over Rising Sun: The Borg King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Dr. Carrera and the crew of Minerva (the spacetreefish) make contact with the borg - and they're in trouble...
> 
>  _“Who is Species 1784?” asked Old Man Crusher._  
>  _In response, Minerva focused on one of the small ships that had the borg vessels hemmed in. Minerva’s avatar spoke for her. “They call themselves mysun. In appearance they are not too dissimilar from ferengi. Their technology is not much more advanced than the first few generations of Star Fleet ships.”_  
>  _“The borg should be eating these guys for lunch,” said Wesley. “Why can’t they keep up with simple shield frequency adaptations?”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> This is the final scene for Episode 26. There is room for two more episodes before Episode 27 and I might write those later. 
> 
> Suffice that Episode 27 happens several months later...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 26: Rain Over Rising Sun  
Scene 22: The Borg King

26.22  
The Borg King

Nine borg cubes were huddled in the midst of a vast wreckage of borg technology. These nine - damaged as they were - carried more than a billion borg drones among them. The ships surrounding this wreckage were small, not particularly powerful or advanced, but there were hundreds of them. They were still no match for the borg, even in their current state of disrepair. When challenged by the approach of one of the cubes they would retreat. But they maintained the perimeter - keeping the borg hemmed in - awaiting reinforcements.   
But the hundreds of millions of borg in these cubes had an advantage that was an entirely unique experience for them - they had an ally.

Floating inside one of the cubes, apparently impervious to gravity fields, was a creature the borg had never imagined. When Minerva had arrived, the borg responded the way they always responded to intelligent life forms - they tried to assimilate her. But Minerva’s genetics had been altered - she was impervious to the nanites.   
There was no need for a borg drone to transport inside Minerva to converse with her inhabitants. They were able to converse directly through 3rd of 5, the emancipated borg drone known as Hugh. Minerva had grown an alcove for Hugh and the tubes connected to his head were connected directly into Minerva. He was evidently awake and alert - his eye moving, looking about the room. Mlady was curled up on the couch next to this alcove. A tendril extended out of Minerva’s wall. Mlady was idly chewing on it.  
The blue lavardorn avatar sat on the other side of Hugh. Minerva had grown a small divan in front of Hugh’s alcove, providing seating that allowed the entire group to face one another. Old Man Crusher, alien Bob and Dr. Tali Shae were seated on this divan, facing Hugh. Rear Admiral Sarekson Carrera, now completely bald, paced like a nervous chihuahua around this small divan.

Hugh was speaking, but it was clear he was speaking for the borg – his voice was flat and mechanical and he was stumbling over his words. “We want to assimilate Species 1784 but they Species 1784 they shield their ships. New frequencies difficult to match. They adapt when we do.”  
“Who is Species 1784?” asked Old Man Crusher.  
In response, Minerva focused on one of the small ships that had the borg vessels hemmed in. Minerva’s avatar spoke for her. “They call themselves mysun. In appearance they are not too dissimilar from ferengi. Their technology is not much more advanced than the first few generations of Star Fleet ships.”  
“The borg should be eating these guys for lunch,” said Wesley. “Why can’t they keep up with simple shield frequency adaptations?”  
Hugh responded haltingly on behalf of the borg, his vocal style changing randomly - as though several individuals were trying to reply at once, “We decisions not together, too slow. No focus. No order.”  
“They have not adapted to operating without a queen,” said alien Bob. “They didn’t always have one – she came to them tens of thousands of years ago. They have forgotten how to act as a collective without a single will focusing and driving them. A single purpose.”  
“Is there any chance of them re-learning how to actually be a collective?” asked the Doctor.  
“We don’t have that kind of time,” said Rear Admiral Carrera. “They were designed to work as a cooperative, but that code is not only corrupted – by now most of it is probably missing entirely. Their queen would have removed it from their base code to consolidate her power.”  
“Then how?” asked the Doctor.  
“They need another queen,” said Crusher.  
“We can’t give them a queen,” intoned Dr. Tali Shae. “The changes Mlady made to my metabolism, to my genetic structure, repulse borg nanites. Or any nanites. Mlady has already changed Minerva’s genetics too, which is why the borg got nowhere trying to assimilate her.”  
“I exist here strictly as patterns of light,” said the avatar.  
“If we can’t give them a queen,” said Crusher, “how about we give them a king?”  
“If they were to take me, I would just become another drone,” said alien Bob.  
“There is only one of us here who can master the borg and give them direction,” said Carrera.  
“How long will it take to make the modifications?” asked Tali Shae.  
“Maybe an hour?” The Doctor mused.  
Crusher ran his fingers through his long, gray hair. “Let’s hope we have that much time…”

26 – Rain Over Rising Sun


	119. Episode 27.1 - The Sword of Destiny: Bat'leth ',' QeyliS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Introducing Chancellor K'mpec's great granddaughter...
> 
>  _“Report, Commander.” Greta’s use of the Klingon language was crisp and at the same time flowing – a sound only heard among members of the most noble klingon families and among them only the most highly educated - an accent polished at the exclusive veS DuSaQ**. It was a nearly impossible accent to fake largely because it was so rarely heard. "The jem’hadar are here. I can smell them. They must have developed cloaking technology. It might be good enough to fool our computers. But it won’t be good enough to fool your instincts when you analyze the raw feed.”_  
>  _“If they are here, I will find them, my Captain,” said Utash..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> While I sing in thlingn, I am not a linguist and far from fluent in the language. If I were to push this out to a wider audience, I would need to work with a thlingn linguist (yeah - say that five times fast...)  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 1: Bat’leth ‘,’ QeyliS

27.1  
Bat’leth ‘,’ QeyliS*

Greta Leifsdottor sat cross-legged on the floor in her quarters, removing rock from a bat’leth. The design was ancient, but those parts of the sword that had already been revealed looked as though the blade could have been forged last week. It did not look like a blade that had survived hundreds of years of battle, a thousand years of neglect and more than a decade of floating in empty space about the Gamma Quadrant – at some point colliding with a small asteroid at some astounding velocity and becoming fused with it.  
Her first tool for cleaning the rock from the blade had been an archeologist’s disruptor, then a series of small hammers and chisels. At this point she was using steel wool and brushes. The blade was so sharp where part of it was revealed that it had cut easily through the bristles of the brush she was using.  
This had been for months her very private discipline – three hours a day during the middle of the day.  
Greta’s crew knew they were only to call on her during that time if there was an emergency that they could not handle. Under no circumstances were they to enter her quarters. Three months of cleaning – three hours a day – and Greta knew she was halfway there. She carefully placed the sword in its case and spent the last 15 minutes as she always did – putting away tools, sweeping up rock and debris and disciplining her mind.

Greta’s skin was porcelain white. Her extremely long hair was light blonde. She was nearly 6’8” - extremely tall and lean with the straight jawline and lanky arms and legs of her Finnish ancestors. She was a quarter klingon; her forehead ridges were very muted and she might be mistaken for human at first glance - more Viking than klingon. Her long, fine blonde hair was laced with silvered twine and braided into a pony tail that extended from the back of her head almost to her knees.  
She stepped out of her quarters and into the corridor that led to the bridge. On this new design, the officer’s mess and the captain’s quarters were on the same deck as the bridge. The I.K.V. K’mpec was more compact than a bird of prey, but carried more crew, was more heavily armed and was much faster. It was only two steps from the captain’s quarters to the bridge.   
As soon as the doors opened, Commander Utash, Greta’s first officer and first cousin once removed, stood up. “Captain on the Bridge!” The five other bridge officers straightened in their chairs but did not stand up from their stations. Greta took her seat in the center chair. At 24 she was not the youngest captain of an Imperial scout class vessel, but she was by far the youngest to helm one of the newer designs. 

“Report, Commander.” Greta’s use of the Klingon language was crisp and at the same time flowing – a sound only heard among members of the most noble klingon families and among them only the most highly educated - an accent polished at the exclusive veS DuSaQ**. It was a nearly impossible accent to fake largely because it was so rarely heard.  
“The telemetry from the Usotro remains unchanged,” said Utash. “If Damon Trock is being followed, he is not aware of it yet.”  
“Damon Trock is paying us well for protection in this dangerous place. Navigator Krass, set up a standard sweep pattern, port to starboard, down to up,” Captain Greta ordered. “Lieutenant Diz, keep us cloaked, engage search pattern when ready and conduct at warp factor 6.5. Cousin, report to sensor control. The jem’hadar are here. I can smell them. They must have developed cloaking technology. But it will not be as good as ours. It might be good enough to fool our computers. But it won’t be good enough to fool your instincts when you analyze the raw feed.”  
“If they are here, I will find them, my Captain,” said Utash. He turned and exited the bridge.

The captain sprawled comfortably all over her chair. Her armor – as that of her crew – was an obvious update of standard ablative plastic klingon armor. The muted, dark silver chest plates, hauberk, grieves and bracers were the same color as the plastic jacket and knickers to which they were attached. The knickers tucked into black plastic boots that came half-way up the thighs with thick, black plastic grieves for the knees. The entire uniform was much sleeker and far less adorned than the classic klingon armor it was derived from. The thigh-high boots served to emphasize how long the captain’s legs were.   
She surveyed her crew like a queen surveying her realm. The bridge was dark, but crisp, clean. Her crew were klingon except for her ranking pilot, Lt. Bruce Diz, who looked entirely klingon except for the dreadlocks and midnight black skin – gifts from his Jamaican mother – a singer. Diz had inherited a huge, wonderful voice from her as well.

Greta sat up in her chair, opened a channel throughout the scout ship and started rhythmically pounding the arm rest with her armored fist. Then she started singing with a clear, high, clear, powerful voice:

“He HljmeH jav SuS je pemHov vaj qalegh  
“tlhop lang nlSwl’ lugh DoH maH  
“ Duj tlhap maH”***

The crew on the bridge joined her in the chorus. Over the comm system, the voices of crew members throughout the ship could be heard joining in – a powerful unison swiftly breaking into a mass of thick, close and precise harmonies:

“Huch buy' tlhap  
“wa' 'ay' vItlhap - wa' 'ay' tlhap  
“‘vagh 'ay', tlhap HoD  
“nIHwI' Huch tlhab”***

As Captain Greta sang the next verse, her crew emphasized rhythmic pauses by shouting, “jaH” (go):

“vaj tal loDHom boch ‘ej Huv ‘och, SuH botlhDaq je  
“von nIHwI’ - val nIHwI’ - nom nIHwI'  
“SuvtaHvlS ghaH Huch, SuvtaHvlS ghaH yin. Huch SoH ghob’e’ baj SoH”***

And the chorus started again:

“Huch buy' tlhap  
“wa' 'ay' vItlhap - wa' 'ay' tlhap…”

* _Bat’leth ‘,’ QeyliS (thlingn - Sword of Kahless)_

_** veS DuSaQ (thlingn - Warfare Academy)_

* _** - roughly translated from the traditional Klingon hunting shanty:_

 _By the way that even the wind and the sun was six to hold and all to see you  
_ _The right front we get away from thin  
_ _And we take their ship  
_

 _The thief’s money is free (from taxation)  
_ _And it’s one part for you and it’s one part for me  
_ _And it’s five parts for the Captain  
_ _The thief’s money is free_

 _So polish the cannon and clear out the tubes_  
 _The thief is clever, The thief is quick  
_ _The thief fights for money, the thief fights for life. You must earn your share…_

27.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Captain Greta Leifsdottor  
> Human Ethnicity: Finn  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Ivalo, Finland, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 27.1  
> Age when introduced: 24  
> Role: Captain of the I.K.W. K'mpec, Head of the House of K'mpec
> 
> Character: Commander Utash  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Born onboard the I.K.V. Hov bom  
> Introduced: Episode 27.1  
> Age when introduced: 29  
> Role: 1st Officer of the I.K.W. K'mpec, 1st Cousin to Captain Leifsdottor
> 
> Character: Navigator Krass  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: D'iS, Qo'noS  
> Introduced: Episode 27.1  
> Age when introduced: 15  
> Role: Navigator for the I.K.W. K'mpec
> 
> Character: Lt. Bruce Diz  
> Human Ethnicity: Jamaican  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Sto Vo Kor, Cun Ling  
> Introduced: Episode 27.1  
> Age when introduced: 22  
> Role: Head Pilot for the I.K.W. K'mpec


	120. Episode 27.2 - The Sword of Destiny: nglp Seng

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Dolphin is once again trying to find a way around the law - this time treaty law - in order to face an inevitable conflict...
> 
>  _Dolphin turned to the elderly mathematician. “Geoff, how long?”_  
>  _Alstars fluffed out his mane of thick gray hair in frustration. “I don’t know… This is some really hard math. And I’m no spring chicken – I just turned 80 last week…”_  
>  _Captain Dolphin turned back to his director of engineering. “Dr. Moon, what would it take to get Jack Bowman onto this ship?”_  
>  _2nd Lt. Alstars thumped the table with both fists. “I’ll have it for you within the week!”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Dr. Jack Bowman, the chairman of the Applied Physics Department at the Universidad de Chile, is Earth's most brilliant (and widely disliked) mathematician...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 2: ngIp Seng

27.2  
ngIp Seng*

“The last thing I want is a romulan engineer feeding all the technical specifications of this design back to the Imperial Romulan Star Navy – not to mention 24/7 access to Hunter’s AI code.” Captain Kenneth Dolphin was in the engineering conference room along with his first officer, Commander Napoleon Boles, Hunter (the ship’s interactive holographic avatar) and the Engineering department officers. Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas was also present.  
“I couldn’t agree more,” replied Engineering Director, Lt. Cmdr. Moon Sun Salek. “That’s why I think what Geoff, Yolanda and Napoleon have been working on is so valuable to us. There really isn’t much new that the romulans can learn from being on the Ark or the Milky Way – and those crews have plenty of staff for baby-sitting romulans. The breakthrough technology is in the Prowler class ships and especially this one.”  
2nd Lt. Geoffrey Horatio Alstars spoke up. “Hunter, please display this vessel from the outside.” A hologram of the U.S.S. Hunter, about the size of a chair, appeared over the table. “Let’s detail in on the underside of the saucer section at the bow, focusing on the deflector emitter array.” The representation of the ship enlarged and most of it vanished, leaving the detail of the saucer section displayed above the heads of those at the conference table. Instead of a single, large dish like most Star Fleet vessels, the primary deflector array was a series of shallow dimples near the base of the saucer section and also in the front of the strut that connected the saucer section to the nacelle.  
“In order to maintain the flowing design that gives the Prowler class its passive camouflage, the deflector screens are projected from a series of shallow dishes instead of from a single, large dish,” said Alstars. “The disadvantage of this design is it does not allow for a very large contiguous deflector screen. But the Prowler class vessels are so small, they don’t need a large contiguous screen. What no one thought of at the time was that this gives the Hunter additional options that are not possible with the single, larger dish. Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas and our first officer, Napoleon, came to me with the idea almost within an hour of each other last week.” Alstars gestured at Chief Thomas.  
Even after nearly a dozen years in space, Yolanda Thomas had a thick, Okie drawl and tended to speak more slowly than those around her. “As you are aware, the deflector emitter array does double duty as the precision locator that tells us exactly where we are, which is why navigation and deflector control are collocated. Because of the unique configuration of our emitter array, combined with the Hunter’s passive camouflage, it is possible for the deflector array to project a Higgs field outside of our warp bubble when traveling at warp.”  
“The hardest thing about hiding a ship traveling at warp is to hide the presence of a warp field – a giant ripple passing through space,” Thomas continued. “For us to project a Higgs field that will do so requires it to be tuned precisely to our warp field. The math is mind numbing, but Lieutenant Alstars can do it – if anyone can.” 

Dolphin turned to his engineering director. “Salek, how does this square with the Khitomer Accords prohibition against the Federation developing cloaking devices?”  
Dr. Moon rolled her eyes. “I suppose we’re more compliant than the rest of the fleet. Following a very literalist interpretation, we are not creating a cloaking device. Since what we propose does not require any change to the physical devices – we’re just proposing new ways to use existing systems. And using a Higgs field is very different from bending electro-magnetic fields…”  
“That sounds like something I can hang my figurative hat on…” Dolphin started.  
“But I don’t understand why we are going to so much effort to justify this project under Khitomer,” Dr. Moon continued. “Is it true that nearly the entire fleet is being renamed “the U.S.S. Defiant?”  
“A side agreement to the Khitomer Accords allowed Star Fleet to collaborate with the Romulan Star Navy to install a cloaking device in the U.S.S. Defiant for the purposes of defense of the Alpha Quadrant,” Commander Napoleon Boles observed. “Since that language does not specify how many ships might be named the U.S.S. Defiant…”  
“The whole fleet is being renamed the U.S.S. Defiant and every one of our capital ships gets a romulan cloaking device, along with a small team of romulans as required by the side agreement,” Lt. Sun Ho Hui concluded. “But I agree with Salek – why go to all this trouble to pretend we are abiding by the letter of Khitomer when we’re completely shredding its intent?”  
“Khitomer sets our borders and has maintained a working peace among the three great powers in the Alpha Quadrant for nearly 200 years,” said Dolphin. “It dies if we lose. But if we can fight the klingons to a standstill and paper over what we had to do to survive, Khitomer is our best hope for restoring that peace. How long until we are ready to test the Higgs generation protocols?”  
“As soon as Geoffrey can deliver the equations,” said Dr. Moon.  
Dolphin turned to the elderly mathematician. “Geoff, how long?”  
Alstars fluffed out his mane of thick gray hair in frustration. “I don’t know… This is some really hard math. And I’m no spring chicken – I just turned 80 last week…”  
Captain Dolphin turned back to his director of engineering. “Dr. Moon, what would it take to get Jack Bowman onto this ship?”  
2nd Lt. Alstars thumped the table with both fists. “I’ll have it for you within the week!”  
Dolphin returned his attention to the elderly Oxford mathematician. “Okay Geoff, one week. If you get seriously stuck and know you’re not going to make it, don’t hesitate. Get Dr. Bowman to help. We’ll bring him here if we have to. I want this problem solved before we end up in a shooting war.”  
“How are you so certain it will come to that?” asked Dr. Moon.  
“The klingons have prepared for it and we haven’t,” Dolphin answered evenly.

_*ngIp Seng (thlingn - Borrowed Trouble)_

27.2


	121. Episode 27.3 - The Sword of Destiny: batlh qelDI'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Chancellor Martok receives a visitor in the Great Council hall...
> 
>  _“You have come to relieve me,” came a familiar voice, followed by a familiar, iconic laugh - the laughter that had held the Klingon Empire together for two decades of peace. Chancellor Martok straightened with an effort. He took a deep breath and walked steadily to the center of the room – then stopped and leaned heavily on his cane..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Chancellor Martok could name any champion in Worf's absence. He states that he has sent Worf on an errand to find something in the great desert known as The Forge on Vulcan (or more accurately, New Romulus on Vulcan).  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 3: batlh qelDI’

27.3  
batlh qelDI’*

Great adventurers and master swordsmen were a common occurrence within the klingon population. In theory, a masterful fighter could fight his or her way to the top of any structure and this was often how klingons (and sometimes humans or klingon/human hybrids) became captain of a bird of prey. But a blend of aristocratic and democratic traditions as well as related merit requirements limited the ability of klingons to simply fight their way to the center seat of anything more powerful than a bird of prey. Captaining a cruiser required demonstrated leadership ability and testing for tactical and strategic acumen - promotion beyond captain even moreso. And top generals were the only klingons accepted onto the Great Council without a direct aristocratic bloodline - and of those aristocrats, only the heads of the 17 noble houses could serve on the Great Council.  
Those few klingons who had aristocratic standing could challenge the chancellor to single combat, but victory did not automatically grant the chancellorship to the victor – the chancellor was democratically elected from among the great council members.

Councilors Bigh and Shozek were the only two who habitually came down to the council chambers before Chancellor Martok. Military, all three. The remaining members of the council were there by bloodright. All of them had served a minimum of four years, but Bigh, Shozek and Martok were lifelong military.   
This morning Bigh and Shozek arrived together as usual, and were immediately on edge. Both drew their disruptors and instinctively moved into position to cover each other.   
A sharp intake of breath informed Shozek that Bigh had also caught the scent of blood. Klingon blood. The sounds were off as well. No breathing outside the great doors. The councilors had entered from the rear of the chamber. Both warriors aimed their disruptors at a figure in a darkened corner of the room.   
“Show yourself!” said Bigh.

“I come to claim my birthright.” It was a female voice – the most cultured of klingon accents. A lanky figure in full, antique armor emerged from the shadows, holding a bat’leth.

“Put your disruptor away, Bigh.”  
“Shozek?”  
“Lights!” said Shozek. The chamber was flooded with light.   
Bigh immediately understood why Shozek had told him to holster his disruptor. It was The Sword. The warrior carrying the sword had positioned herself directly under the portrait of QeyliS – the first emperor. Her armor was designed to be reminiscent of the mighty QeyliS, but was clearly custom made for her long, slender figure. The sword in her hands, however, was identical to the sword in the painting.  
“Remove your helmet. Show yourself, pretender!” said Bigh. “The sword in your hands…”  
“Is not the sword of QeyliS,” she responded. “It is an exact replica. The true sword will arrive in this hall shortly after the council convenes. I will remove my helmet and identify myself at that time.”  
“And your accomplices?” asked Shozek.  
“My crew remain aboard my ship. My family will arrive with the sword,” she replied.  
“The accomplices who helped you win your way to the hall,” said Shozek. “You had to kill 60 warriors to get into this room.”  
“I came alone. I killed only the five outside that door for challenging my right to be here. The rest are still at their posts, unaware of my presence,” she responded.

“You have come to relieve me,” came a familiar voice, followed by a familiar, iconic laugh - the laughter that had held the Klingon Empire together for two decades of peace. Chancellor Martok straightened with an effort. He took a deep breath and walked steadily to the center of the room – then stopped and leaned heavily on his cane. “And you have the right, by blood, by combat and by the quality of your heart. I have been following your adventures, child. Don’t think for a moment I will make this easy for you. I will kill you if you give me the slightest chance. Give that to me.”  
The masked and helmeted female warrior stepped forward and handed the replica of the famous sword to the klingon chancellor. In return, he handed her his cane. “I see from your stance you are ready for me to attack. If you weren’t, I would have killed you this very moment. Perhaps you will be a worthy adversary! SHOZEK!! Get our sleep addled, bloodright fellow councilors in here NOW! I will not wait for this battle!” With a smooth series of motions, the ancient chancellor flipped the replica sword through a quick series of forms and handed it back to his challenger, receiving his cane in return.  
Martok hobbled to the council table and leaned against it, waiting as the remaining council members straggled in. “Dur’en of the house of Surga – why did I know you would be the last to arrive?” Before the portly, elderly council member could respond, Martok turned toward his challenger: “WHERE IS THE SWORD??”  
“My family has arrived. My cousin and first officer bears the sword,” she replied.  
Martok turned toward Bigh. “Send in Commander Utash! Bring the sword to me!” 

The ancient chancellor held the sword aloft, then went through the basic forms with it. “If this is not the true Sword of QeyliS, it is so perfectly made that only one who has held the true sword would know. And there is only one alive who we know has held the true sword. He is in the Forge on Vulcan. I sent him there to find something of great value to me. Step forward, child! The time has come for you to identify yourself!”  
The female warrior swept off her mask and helmet and shook out her long, blonde braided pony tail. “I am Greta Leifsdottor of the House of K’mpec!”  
“And the great granddaughter and direct line heir to Chancellor K’mpec, and captain of the ship that bears his name,” said Martok. “You have passed the tests of leadership. The right to challenge me is yours by blood and by service. And I welcome it. But this will be a fight – not a mercy killing! Fight well, child! Do not leave this crippled old klingon to die in his bed…” Martok handed the sword to Commander Utash and retrieved his own bat’leth from the mount on his back. “Give me a death worthy of a klingon warrior!”  
“Chancellor!” said Bigh, “Will you not send for your champion?”  
“I might have on any other day,” Martok replied. “But not this day. Because this day…”  
“Today, Chancellor…” said Greta, wielding the replica of QeyliS’ sword.  
“Heh! Yes! Today…” said Martok  
“…is a good day to die!” they said in unison.

The ancient chancellor did not waste time warming up with forms – his tired, old body was as prepared as it could possibly be from his morning regimen. It was clear from the start that not only was he woefully outmatched by his opponent’s youth and vigor, but that her unique blend of genetics gave her advantages in a sword fight beyond most opponents. Martok was wary and evaded or deflected her first few probing attacks. It was immediately clear to everyone in the room that Greta benefited from a combination of klingon strength and stamina with the far greater flexible range of motion and speed of a human.  
Greta was not toying with her opponent. Martok was ancient, but he was also a master of the bat’leth and he could only be defeated once she exhausted his ability to counter, dodge and block. Even so, some of his counterattacks came close and might have been devastating to a klingon opponent. But Martok could not make up for Greta’s overwhelming advantage in speed. Because of her long arms and legs, she also had an advantage in reach and was able to quickly wear him down by delivering several attacks while remaining out of reach of any counterattack.   
With a sudden, sweeping blow Greta swept Martok’s legs out from under him. As he fell, sprawling on his back, she turned and threw the replica of QeyliS’ sword to her cousin, Utash, who simultaneously threw the real sword to her. Greta caught and raised the sword of QeyliS with a single, graceful motion. Martok, his sword out of reach on the floor behind him, grasped at the d’k tagh at his belt. Greta put her foot firmly on Martok’s arm, breaking his wrist and trapping his hand grasping his as yet still sheathed d’k tagh and said, “Farewell, great Chancellor.”  
Martok managed a grunt of pain. He looked into his opponent’s eyes and, summoning the last of his strength, said in a loud voice, “Lead my people well, child!”  
Greta buried the sword of QeyliS into Martok’s major heart – the antique blade cutting easily through his plastic armor, through his body and gouging the marble floor beneath him. She raised her voice - her words echoed throughout the great chamber:  
“Here lies the greatest warrior of our time. Time itself could not defeat him! Only the sword of QeyliS could release him from his burden!” Greta knelt quickly and opened Martok’s eyes, looking into them. A howling roar began as a deep and distant murmur within the council chambers as she opened her mouth and looked up. These halls had been designed to amplify sound and the sound of a few dozen klingons lifting their faces to the heavens and suddenly roaring in unison was deafening – almost seeming to shake the very foundations of the great council chamber.

It was not a howl of rage, nor one of sorrow. 

It was the sound of triumph. A warning to the dead to beware…

A mighty klingon warrior would soon arrive among them.

_*batlh qelDI’ (thlingn - The Author of Honor)_

27.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: General Bigh  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Rost, Qo'noS  
> Introduced: Episode 27.3  
> Age when introduced: 63  
> Role: Member of Klingon High Council, Head of the House of Ackocxi
> 
> Character: General Shozek  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: veng wa'Dlch, Qo'noS  
> Introduced: Episode 27.3  
> Age when introduced: 55  
> Role: Member of Klingon High Council, Head of the House of G'gizh
> 
> Character: Dur'en  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: ven wa'Dich, Qo'noS  
> Introduced: Episode 27.3  
> Age when introduced: 67  
> Role: Member, Klingon High Council, Head of the House Surgha


	122. Episode 27 - The Sword of Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Introduction to Episode 27  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> This episode begins about 3 months after the end of Episode 26 and I could easily put three or four episodes in between. This is a fairly short episode and the final episode, 28, is even shorter. At some point during that time, Lt. Commander Napoleon Boles does something so exceptional that he receives a field promotion to Commander - and that story would be worth telling. There is a lot more to tell about Napoleon coming into his own as a leader, just as Kenny Dolphin has been doing throughout the series. Maybe I will tell those stories later.
> 
> I could easily double the size of this episode - it is hardly big enough to do the subject matter justice. But it really felt like time to pull the series to its conclusion. It's time to get on with the big story.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
**Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny

Episode 27 – The Sword of Destiny

_“Old warriors do not sleep well. To the young warrior, life is a seamless dream of glory – waking and sleeping. The old warrior dreams those same dreams at night, but instead of the singing of his blood and the praise of his people, he hears screams and curses. And he sees the faces of those he has robbed of their lives, those who died at his side and those he ordered to their deaths. The nobility of his cause no longer matters. Old glories ring hollow. Every song has become a dirge. Medallions of honor hang over a heart empty but for sorrow and regret. And the old warrior dreads and frets away the night while the young sleep soundly, dreaming of glories yet to be won. Old warriors do not sleep well.”_

 _Alexander Rozhinko –_ _Words of my Father from The Forge_ _._

Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar – Hunter)

Captain Kenneth Dolphin  
Chief Executive Officer – Commander Napoleon Boles  
Chief Operations Officer – Lt. Commander Gaia Gamor

  
Medical Director – Lt. Jazz Sam Sinder  
Asst. Medical Director – 2nd Lt. Gabriella Griff  
Ensign Sif  
Forensic Specialist – Midshipman Kunto Wekesa (nickname Kit)  
Forensic Specialist – Midshipman Raaven (rhymes with cabin)  
Emergency Medical Hologram – Dr. Raj  
Tactical Medical Hologram – Dr. Kim  
.  
Director of Flight Operations – Lt. Grorher (roll the “r”s)  
Asst. Flight Dir. – 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks  
Navigator Johanna Imex  
Navigator Auqa’rh’lth (A-ka-ruh-ulth)  
Ensign Chelna Zusa  
Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate)  
Flight Specialist Dih Terri  
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar  
Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper  
.  
Director of Ground Operations – Lt. T’Lon  
Asst. Ground Ops Dir. – 2nd Lt. Tolon Reeves  
Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace  
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina)  
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki  
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi  
Ensign Eykirros Jones (nickname is Ike Jones)  
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo  
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment)  
.  
Director of Engineering – Lt. Commander Moon Sun Salek  
Asst. Engineering Dir. – Lt. Sun Ho Hui  
Midshipman Carlos Datsun  
Transporter Engineer Dragomut  
2nd Lt. Geoffrey Horatio Alstars  
Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas  
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs  
Flight Engineer Tomos  
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon


	123. Episode 27.4 - The Sword of Destiny: lIH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new Chancellor of the Klingon Empire, Greta Leifsdottor, declares war.

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 4: lIH

27.4  
lIH*

“The situation on Rising Sun is intolerable.”

Viewscreens throughout the Alpha Quadrant were displaying the new Chancelor of the Klingon High Council, Greta Leifsdottor. She was standing in what appeared to be the council chambers on Qo’noS. The Sword of QeyliS was on a stand in front of her. Her long, blonde hair was braided in a simple, but meticulous series of knots.

“In the face of the Federation’s feeble efforts, xenophobic separatists have taken over nearly half of the colony and have killed thousands of federation citizens and citizens of our Empire. Imperial ships on missions of peace have been targeted in orbit and only four days ago, one of our trading vessels was deliberately targeted and fired upon.  
“This unacceptable chaos extends across our borders with both the United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire. A bloodthirsty religion has claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands on Saketh and cult leaders from this religion have tried to convert loyal citizens of the Klingon Empire to the worship of their false gods.   
“While we klingons will never again worship any gods - we long ago killed our gods for meddling in our affairs - these zealots have introduced a dangerous and invasive parasite, known as the mogu mogo, to several of our worlds along our border with the Romulan Star Empire.  
“On one flank the Empire is under attack by fanatical romulans and their hemra slaves. On the other, our citizens have been targeted with bombs and bioweapons by human, vulcan and andorian hate groups, intolerant of each other but even more virulantly intolerant of my fellow klingons.  
“I should not be surprised at the incompetence and apathy of the putatively United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire in the face of this ongoing aggression. We watched human incompetence and romulan treachery in the disgraceful surrender of the Vulcan homeworld to a romulan invasion. We offered our assistance to remove the invaders, but the Federation sought peace! Peace with a sworn enemy of both the Federation and the Klingon Empire!  
“And now to add insult this disgrace, the Federation has entered into not one but two illegal treaties with our enemies - one to surrender the Vulcan homeworld and another to surrender two more star systems in Federation space - the Al Jenova and Al Donovos systems - to the Romulan Star Empire. This is a direct violation of the Khitomer Accords.  
“We will no longer tolerate watching our so-called ally align with our sworn enemy, kill our civilians, and stand idly by as their newfound friends attempt to spread their foul, disgusting religion among our people and desecrate our worlds with their vermin.”

Chancellor Greta straightened her already ramrod straight, long, slender body. She laid her hand on the Sword of QeyliS, displayed in front of her. She lifted the sword from its stand and looked at it reverently. Then in a blindingly fast, single motion, she spun the sword and held it aloft. Blade facing forward. Her expression transformed as suddenly from reverence to rage

“lIH!!”

The transmission ended abruptly.

Not one second later, the skies around Saketh, Rising Sun, Vulcan and a dozen other federation and romulan worlds flashed brighter than a sun. On the night side, the day side, the polar regions - everywhere on each of these worlds, the skies lit up briefly as though subjected to old fashioned flash photography.  
This was the result of cloaked mines exploding simultaneously around each of these worlds, taking down satellite defense grids, obital shipyards, weather sattelite grids, star bases and several hundred interceptors that had, at the beginning of the transmission from Qo’noS of Chancellor Greta’s speech, launched to defend their worlds.

In the next instant, hundreds of Imperial Klingon Vessels decloaked simultaneously in orbit of these worlds and began beaming hundreds of thousands of klingon shock troops into any area unprotected by shielding. At the same time, a massive bombardment of planetary defensive shielding began, lighting up the skies again - this time with massive disruptor beams and, against some facilities, high yield photonic explosives.

_*lIH (thlingn Hol - Commence)_

27.4


	124. Episode 27.5 - The Sword of Destiny: bISolnISbe'taH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klingons pay a heavy price to establish a beachhead on the colony of Rising Sun...

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 5: bISolnISbe'taH

  
27.5  
bISolnISbe'taH*

An odd chuckling sound filled the early pre-dawn darkness of the Carolyn Kirk Saavik Wildlife Preserve and Cultural Heritage Site located on the large central island of the Soda Toer Archipeligo on Rising Sun. The sound grew in intensity - hundreds of voices - thousands of deep voices - chuckling mirthlessly.  
The unique atmosphere of this planet, along with its four moons, made for glorious sunrises, painted in orgasms of color across the sky. Beneath this magnificent display, the rose tinted grass of the colony’s largest park gradually came into focus along with hundreds of landed troop carriers and thousands of klingon warriors kneeling - brought to one knee becuase each had stepped into a deep hole in the grass. Their mouths and eyes were open wide - their faces frozen into manic expressions as their bodies were wracked with spasms, causing them to make a loud, chuckling sound as they fought for breath. These warriors were dead, but their bodies continued to fight for air - air that could now only be used for chuckling.

On the many paved walkways that laced through the park, hundreds of humans and a few dozen andorians lay dead. They were wearing civilian clothing, but were still clutching or had just dropped Andorian Imperial Guard issue phaser rifles. These were the peaceful dead - some killed by disrupter burns, others by bladed weapons. ****

The commander of the Imperial Klingon Assault Force assigned to take this preserve, Colonial Kraig, was not so fortunate. He was attending a general staff meeting and trying to remain inconspicuous.   
The pentagonal shelter they were meeting next to was built entirely of stones that had been joined without morter. This building was more than 20,000 years old and had been erected by a now extinct species that had once had this world to themselves. Long before this colony of nearly 5 billion humans, less than 12 light years on the Federation side of the border with the Klingon Empire, had become a flashpoint in the often strained relations between these two greatest powers in the Alpha Quadrant.

  
A klingon general in an antique uniform - not the modern ablative plastic armor but burnished and bronzed steel chainmail - was surveying the morning’s carnage and speaking so quietly that the officers in attendance were hushed and straining to hear his words.

“Now I must parade myself before our Chancellor and accept responsibility for this disgrace.” At 111 years old, General Mor’rgoth was the last of a dying breed - a klingon born with a smooth forehead - one of many effects from the Klingon Augment Virus that had infected two generations of klingons with the original series of genetically enhanced human DNA. One of the most shameful provisions of the Khitomer Accords prohibited all augmented klingons and the first generation of their children from having children. There was no next generation - so that term had come, among the augments, to apply to all other klingons.   
That same provision had required Mor’rgoth, Kor, Kang, Koloth and all original series klingons to undergo cosmetic surgery to install skull ridges. The Federation and the Klingon Council alike had supported this provision. Star Fleet had objected to this requirement, but not very strenuously - one of many things for which General Mor’rgoth would never forgive humanity.

Mor’rgoth turned to his adjutant - spoke only a little more loudly. “General LariS, how many of our warriors were killed in this attack?”  
“8,227,” replied Adjutant General LariS. She was the most respected and least envied officer in the entire Imperial Klingon Forces- and both for the same reason - she had been General Mor’rgoth’s adjutant for nearly 20 years - the first adjutant to survive for more than 6 months in his service.  
“And how many of our warriors were killed by these so-called Rising Sun Rangers?” The general’s voice was calm and steady, quiet. It was a very bad sign. Mor’rgoth was famous for his temper. If he wasn’t shouting and bullying, he had to be dangerously furious.  
“18.”  
“18.” The general made a fist, held it out in front of him. “So that means that 8,209 klingon warriors were killed by an inobtrusive herbivore no larger than my fist. Colonial Kraig…”  
Kraig knew he would not come out of this situation unscathed - if at all. He stepped forward and brought his fist to his chest in a salute.  
“Colonial, you are fluent and literate in Federation Standard, as is required for all officers, correct?” The general’s voice was still calm, conversational.  
“Yes, General,” Kraig replied.  
The general took three steps to his right, revealing a large sign that had been partially obscured behind him. He gestured to it. “Please read this sign, Colonial.”  
“Beware! Please remain on the paved trails and do not step on the grass,” Col. Kraig read. “The green-bellied chucklehorn is a protected species. These small herbivores are harmless if you do not disturb them. If, however, your leg becomes trapped in one of their burrows, they will attack energetically. The chucklehorn’s cranial horn is very hard, extremely sharp and delivers a fast acting neurotoxin that causes almost instant death, followed by bronchial spasms, accompanied by the vocalizations for which the creature is named.”  
“So you could read the warning signs. Yet you did not take the simple precaution of requiring your soldiers to follow these instructions and remain on the paved walkways. You do understand that such an egregious oversight requires a change in your status.”

Kraig took a deep breath - a battlefield demotion meant great dishonor not only to him, but also to his family and his house.

In the next moment, the colonial fell to his knees, then toppled as his intestines spilled from his suddenly split stomach. It took several minutes after his body hit the ground for him to finally die a gruesome, painful death. Mor’rgoth had struck so fast that his officers had not seen him slice through Kraig’s belly. They only observed him cleaning and sheathing his d’k tagh as their unfortunate colleague struggled in vain on the ground before them. Like most original series klingons, in addition to an unusually long life expectancy, Mor’rgoth’s enhanced human genetics had given him another unanticipated advantage - in his case, the blinding speed of the fastest human.

General Mor’rgoth waited for Kraig to breathe his last, watching impassively as the colonial, unable to take but the shallowest of breaths, writhed in agony, his body fighting for one more breath, one more heartbeat. When the colonial was finally still, Mor’rgoth spoke even more quietly than before - his senior officers held their breaths to catch his words.   
“The three largest urban centers in Soda Toer are to be taken before sunset. The remaining eleven by sunset tomorrow. Unless you wish to join your colleague in the pits of Grethor.” He turned, stretched, and casually strolled into the ancient shelter that had become his headquarters on Rising Sun.

No one knelt to open Colonial Kraig’s eyes. No one lifted their head to howl for him. No warning was offered to the honored dead that Kraig might soon be among them. Mor’rgoth’s officers were well aware that to do so would be the quickest way to join their disgraced and disemboweled colleague.

_*bISolnISbe'taH (thlingn Hol - Beware)_

27.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: General Mor'rgoth  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: D'Horgh Station  
> Introduced: Episode 27.5  
> Age when introduced: 111  
> Role: Field Marshal, House Surga
> 
> Character: Colonial Kraig  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: qetlth Pass, Grettan Colony  
> Introduced: Episode 27.5  
> Age when introduced: 31  
> Role: Battalion Commander, House Surga
> 
> Character: Adjutant General LariS  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: DuSaQ, Qo'noS  
> Introduced: Episode 27.5  
> Age when introduced: 57  
> Role: Adjutant to General Mor'rgoth


	125. Episode 27.6 - The Sword of Destiny: vub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain Geordi La Forge and his chief engineer, Commander Reginald Barclay, have been taken prisoner by the klingons.

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 6: vub

27.6  
vub*

Captain Geordi LaForge and Commander Reginald Barclay were the lucky ones, along with Subcommander Cireeka. Reg and Cireeka had suffered broken bones, but their lives had been spared and while they did not receive the instant restorative surgery they might have expected from romulan or federation doctors, at least their broken bones had been set and casts and splints applied.   
Their lives had been spared and their wounds treated because they had been the most senior officers at the engineering conference in Safagreer on Saketh when klingon shock troops had taken the city. The room was dark.

Geordi had been hit so hard in the face that his prosthetic eyes were on the fritz. Most of what he could see was static. But he had been blind all of his life and in spite of the remarkable, superior vision made available to him first by his visor, then by his ocular implants, he had always considered himself a blind man. He had deliberately spent several hours a day first with his visor removed and later with his eyes turned off. He turned them off now. The static was distracting him.  
“Reg… Is that you?” LaForge asked.  
His query provoked a vague moan.  
“Yeah, I would recognize that moan anywhere. You didn’t, by chance, catch the registry number of the starship that ran us over?”  
Commander Barclay replied with two moans - the first ascending in pitch, the second descending.  
“You weren’t hit, Captain,” came a female voice. “You were slapped. I think the soldier who captured us was initiating a mating ritual.”  
LaForge made a coughing, painful laugh, then took a deep breath and said, “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor, Cireeka. But please, no more jokes for now. You’re literally killing me…” He followed this with a painful cough.  
“What led you to believe I was joking?” the romulan officer asked.  
Reginald Barclay managed to speak very softly. “Be nice to her, Captain. I think she might have saved you from a fate worse than death.” He followed this with a moan.  
“We’re… aboard a ship…” Geordi said.  
“Yes,” Barclay responded, “We aren’t.”  
“That’s what I thought, Reg. You hear that?”  
“No, and neither do you.”  
“What are you two talking about?” Cireeka asked.   
Geordi aimed his broken prosthetic eyes at her. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”  
“Less than nothing,” Barclay added.  
Cireeka started to say something, but stopped just as Geordi made the slightest hushing sound.

“So, the pretty human is awake…” The female klingon’s voice was syrupy. It was evident she was not alone. Someone else was unlocking a door while she was speaking. “Who knew he would be so fragile? Just the slightest love-tap and he’s out for a week.”  
“Just tell them everything,” said Reg, weakly. “Don’t… don’t fight this.”  
Geordi could hear the terror and pain in his chief engineer’s voice. Barclay had always been a little cowardly. But the man had an odd reserve of courage that had brought him and the Enterprise through a surprising number of close calls. If that courage was still there, there was no evidence of it at the moment. Geordi could smell the man’s fear - hear it in his ragged breath. He wished for all the world he could touch his friend - provide some comfort. But the chains, while allowing him some freedom of movement, were too short to allow him to reach his fellow prisoners.  
“How you humans manage to live with yourselves. At least the romulan has shown some courage. Come, Mr. LaForge, I am not here to question you, or to torment you. That comes later. I just want a little fun…”  
Geordi struggled into a sitting position, ignoring the four-alarm headache this brought on. Lying down had been so much better.  
It wasn’t the woman who was talking who unlocked his cuffs. The keys were wielded by a male klingon, if smell and size were any guide, which Geordi was able to approximate by the sound of his breathing, the sound of his footfalls. A pair of large, gloved hands gripped LaForge roughly under the arms and his head exploded in pain as he was brought to his feet. Geordi staggared backward and leaned heavily against a cold metal wall. It was vibrating - but not the vibration of space travel - it was the vibration of a shielded facility.  
“Why do you want us to believe we are on a ship?” Geordi asked.  
“You are a clever one! Your cowardly friend and the romulan woman also figured that out. I do not know. Someone thought it would be a good idea. Why do you not look me in the eye when you are talking?”  
“My prosthetic eyes have been damaged. I’m blind.” Geordi aimed his eyes toward his approximation of where his questioner’s eyes might be. From her voice and her footfalls, he guessed that she was significantly taller than him - and that her boots probably gave her a few more inches in height. He felt a large, gloved hand run across his hair, firmly gripping the back his head. This was her hand. The glove did not cover her fingers. The pressure actually provided him some relief from the pounding headache.  
“You do have some courage to you, human.” The syurpy sound was gone. She was no longer putting on an act. A sign of respect.  
“Thank you,” he responded.  
“I almost wish you didn’t. For your sake. This will make things much more difficult for you than…”

WHAM!!!BOOM!!!

The force of the explosion threw Geordi and his klingon interlocutor to the floor as a huge chunk of white-hot metal shot like a molten cannonball through one of the walls. Cireeka and Reg both screamed as small pieces of hot metal lanced their skin, burning them. The other klingon in the room - the one with the keys - was not so fortunate. He was hit squarely in the chest by this molten missile, melting the center of his body and killing him instantly.   
The klingon female quickly removed her ablative plastic armor as a spray of molten metal was rapidly burning holes into it. The room shook again with two more explosions.

“My arm!” screamed Reg.  
“Please! Let me help him!” Geordi shouted.   
“There was a cloaked federation starship in the area. Star Fleet must be attempting a rescue!” she responded. “The keys are melted - hold on, human.” She grasped the chain that bound Barclay’s wrist to the wall and tugged hard.  
“Pitch was too high,” Geordi responded. “Those were romulan munitions.”  
“They won’t try to rescue us,” Cireeka managed, pain evident in her voice. “They know you have high ranking prisoners here - prisoners who might have valuable information. They’re going to level this facility and keep bombing it until they’re certain we’re all dead.”  
“We’ve got to get out of here,” said Geordi. He poured water on Barclay’s wounded arm. “You’re lucky your arm was in a cast, Reg. You might have lost it. As it is, I think you just have a nasty burn. We’ll have to treat it, but we have to get out of here first. Can you walk?” he asked as the klingon pulled Barclay’s chain free.   
“I think so,” he said as Geordi helped him to his feet.  
“My leg is broken,” Cireeka said. “You’ll have to leave me.”  
“Not a chance,” Geordi responded. He turned toward their klingon captor. “Can you get her free?”  
“I already am,” Cireeka replied. “That missile burned through my chain.”  
Geordi spoke to the klingon woman. “Help us!”  
“I cannot disobey my orders!”  
“We’re still your prisoners,” LaForge responded. “You’ll be saving a valuable asset for the empire.”

_*vub (thlingn Hol - captive)_

27.6


	126. Episode 27.7 - The Sword of Destiny: tagh 'oH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> As the opening of the Klingon War of Aggression takes its toll, Star Fleet has to reassess everything in light of survival..  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> It is really difficult to express the utter devastation of war and make it personal...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 7: tagh ‘oH

27.7  
tagh ‘oH*

The Imperial Romulan Warship Fero was burning in space. The gigantic battlegod had been cut into several pieces. One of the largest compartments, containing a living ocean, had broken open and the entire massive body of water had flowed out in two large segments only to be frozen hard in the vacuum of space. Everything that had lived in that ocean, including several pods of a large, whale-like species, was now frozen hard inside it. Hundreds of thousands of bodies, some whole, others in pieces, drifted in near space around the wreck of the Fero – Romulans. Klingons. Hemra. A few humans.

The Romulan Star Navy had built these enormous battlegods to take on a borg cube, but as the gamma wave front steralized one world after another in the empire, these behemoth ships had become the lynchpin in romulan conservation efforts. Each ship carried dozens of unique environments rescued from planets in advance of the deadly wave front. These had now spilled out into space, exposing thousands of plant and animal species to the frozen vacuum, causing the extinction of many of these species that had barely been rescued from their home planets.  
Millions of tons of soil drifted around the wreck of the I.R.W. Fero, exposing millions of microbial species to the deadly background cosmic radiation, spelling the final end for entire biospheres.

The wreck of an Intrepid class Star Fleet vessel was entirely dwarfed next to the Fero. Both the engineering hull and the saucer section had been ripped in half, leaving the ship in three large pieces, all of them mostly exposed to space.  
Nineteen klingon ships were also adrift, inert in the wash of the battle, their hulls also open to space – a K’mpec class scout, a few birds of prey, several Vor’cha class cruisers and two of the new Martok class cruisers. Smaller wrecks indicated that about a dozen one- and two-man interceptors had also taken part in this battle. The markings identified these as belonging to the Vulcan High Command in Exile.  
Tens of thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands of people might have survived this battle and might have been clinging to life within various sections of the wreckage – especially what was left of the enormous Fero – but no one was coming to the rescue.

On a dozen worlds, most significantly Vulcan, Rising Sun and Saketh, the klingons had once again taught the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire the harsh truth that it was impossible to prevent a determined enemy from establishing a beachhead and on those well settled worlds the klingons had established several well defended landing zones and were breaking out from them. The once beautiful cities of the Soda Toer Archipelago on Rising Sun and Saf Harbor on Saketh were now bombed out battlegrounds with families fleeing in every direction in a desperate attempt to escape the omnipresent fighting. Some of the resistance was organized – Star Fleet Planetary Defense forces and local romulan militias quickly armed with rudimentary training. Far more of the resistance was improvised – outlaw gangs and local police forces working together to set traps and try to create safe zones.

_*tagh ‘oH (thlingn - It Begins)_

27.7


	127. Episode 27.10 - The Sword of Destiny: Weq 'ej qet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Kenneth Dolphin is commanding a wing of Prowler class ships on a covert mission behind enemy lines...
> 
>  _“Stop staring at the pretty girl and start analyzing those feeds, Geoff,” said Boles. “I swear she has turned you into a teenager. I have no idea what that girl sees in you…”_  
>  _“It’s so obvious,” Auqa’rh’lth retorted. “Any girl knows just from looking at how tall he is and how big his hands are that he must have a really, really big…”_  
>  _“That’s enough, Navigator…” Boles warned..._  
>  _“…brain…”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Dolphin happens to be in Engineering when things go down. Instead of rushing to the bridge, he trusts his 1st officer to run the operation.  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 10: Weq ‘ej qet

27.10  
Weq ‘ej qet*

The Prowler class ships and their JAG crews were on loan to Star Fleet Operations and placed under Admiral Chekov. These ships were divided into three operational groups – 40 of them were assigned to fleet protection and put under the direct command of Admiral Chekov. 14 were assigned to the 6th fleet under Rear Admiral Red. The remaining 16 were divided into two covert operation groups under the command of the two JAG captains with the most combat experience – Captain Sagittarius Hunter of the U.S.S. Prowler and Captain Kenneth Dolphin of the U.S.S. Hunter.

Captain Dolphin had personally replicated signs and mounted them just above the viewscreen on the bridge of each of the ships under his command. These signs were simple – flat black with Admiral Chekov’s commandment to the Hunter’s task force in bold red letters: 

HIT AND RUN

“Commander, I’m picking up a large navigational distortion.” Navigator Auqa’rh’lth was in the U.S.S. Hunter’s navigation/deflector control room, analyzing the raw feed from the navigation system. 

The Hunter’s new half klingon/half orion navigator had quickly charmed all of the males serving on the U.S.S. Hunter (sparing only the captain and first officer) and had selected the recently promoted 2nd Lt. Geoffrey Horatio Alstars, who, like all her previous conquests, had quickly fallen prey to the green-skinned vixen’s charms. She had enjoyed so much success with the men onboard that Dr. Jazz had taken to personally verifying her use of vanagraxaline to suppress her production of the powerfully psycho/sexually active pheromones that were, along with her green skin, her birthright as part orion.

“Access the raw feed from the U.S.S. Tracker and the U.S.S. Birder and analyze,” came Commander Napoleon Boles’ voice from the bridge. “Is Geoff there with you?”  
“I’m here, Commander,” came the crisp Oxford accent of the Hunter’s second oldest crew member.  
“Stop staring at the pretty girl and start analyzing those feeds, Geoff,” said Boles. “I swear she has turned you into a teenager. I have no idea what that girl sees in you…”  
“It’s so obvious,” Auqa’rh’lth retorted. “Any girl knows just from looking at how tall he is and how big his hands are that he must have a really, really big…”  
“That’s enough, Navigator…” Boles warned...  
“…brain…” Auqa'rh'lth concluded.  
“Napoleon,” said Alstars, “I don’t like the look of this… It looks like there is a Martok class cruiser on the edge of this formation. We shouldn’t be able to see it – it should have the new cloaking device. I’m also picking up what appear to be six of the old style battle cruisers that they have been using as supply ships…”  
“Captain, have you been monitoring?” Boles asked.  
“I’m in main engineering,” came Captain Kenneth Dolphin’s voice over the comm. “Geoff, get ready for show and tell, I’m coming to you.”

Only a few heartbeats later, Dolphin had scrambled up the forward ladder that went up from the main engineering floor, through deck 1 and onto deck 2. Both decks 1 and 2 were essentially catwalks from which the main engineering floor could be seen but that provided access to rooms around the exterior walls and the primary warp engine.  
After reviewing the readings for only a few heartbeats, Dolphin took a breath. “Hunter, get optimal firing solutions on the blip identified as a potential Martok. If that’s really what is there, I want it out of our sky. We shoot while running, phasers only, full power. You have Star Fleet’s analysis of the design’s weak points. Prepare to transmit on my mark. Napoleon, put us into attack attitude.”  
“Captain, if I may?” said Alstars.  
“Quickly, Lieutenant,” Dolphin replied.  
“Hunter, can you add a second target so that each of our ships hits a soft spot on one of those old battle cruisers? Two birds, one phaser strike. Just keep the phaser cannon on and drag it from the new cruiser to one of the old ones…”  
“It can be done,” Hunter replied. “Captain?”  
“Do it. Napoleon, pass along the new orders to the other boats,” said Dolphin.

To a person viewing from outside the Hunter’s Higgs-field camouflaged warp bubble (and those of the other 7 Star Fleet Prowler class ships) and outside the cloaking fields of the convoy of klingon ships, there was simply nothing to see. Empty space.   
Phaser fire suddenly erupted out of nowhere and struck what at first appeared to be nothing. Then a series of explosions were revealed as the cloaking devices of several klingon ships failed. Two of the six old battle cruisers (now being used as supply ships) were destroyed. The other four were incapacitated and dead in space.   
The more modern and much larger Martok class ship, while damaged, was able to raise its shields and give pursuit to the eight tiny Star Fleet ships, but these were only briefly visible and quickly vanished before the klingons could return fire.

“We can’t leave that Martok class cruiser out there. Or any witnesses,” said Dolphin. “They will be able to spread the word about our ability to use phasers while apparently cloaked. Geoff – get to phaser control and reprogram them for recursive fire.”   
2nd Lt. Alstars got up from his seat in navigation/deflector control and left the room. Captain Dolphin took his place. “Napoleon, communicate with the rest of the wing – we’re going back. Tell the Birder and the Trapper to reset their phasers for recursive fire. All others need to keep their phasers in standard configuration for maximum power. They need to hold their fire until we take out that Martok’s shields. While we’re doing that, they need to wipe out those old cruisers. We come out of warp as close to them as we can. None of them can escape this time.”

The new Martok class cruiser was still visible with its shields up when the Hunter appeared directly in front of it. The weakened phaser shot straight through the klingon ship’s shield as if it weren’t even there, but the beam was so weak that it barely scorched the hull – until it intersected with the klingon cruiser’s deflector dish, causing secondary explosions and taking the klingon ship’s shields down  
The powerful klingon phaser cannon scored a direct hit on the U.S.S. Birder, knocking out main power and literally cutting the ship in half. The remainder of the Hunter’s task force remained hidden behind the four old style klingon cruisers – too close to these antique ships for their phaser cannon to be able to target while pouring phasers into the soft points of these antique cruisers.   
One by one, the four remaining old klingon cruisers exploded.   
The U.S.S. Hunter and the U.S.S. Trapper kept moving, making hard targets for the Martok class cruiser’s main cannon as first they, then the remaining task force ships pumped photon torpedoes into the now defenseless new cruiser until its weapons storage was hit. 

Only 3 out of the U.S.S. Birder’s crew of 35 had survived. The Birder was so badly damaged that Captain Dolphin ordered it first plundered for spare parts and supplies, then the remainder towed and cast directly into the heart of a nearby star.

_*weq ‘ej qet (thlingn – Hit and Run)_

27.10


	128. Episode 27.8 - The Sword of Destiny: 'aj

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rear Admiral Chekov is promoted and takes command of the battlefront...

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 8: ‘aj  
  


27.8  
‘aj*

“I will put it bluntly,” said Star Fleet Commandant Barrett th’Zoarhi. She looked out over an assemblage of a dozen flag officers and more than a hundred Star Fleet captains. Her antennae picked out a few and seemed to nod at them. “In one week of fighting we have lost 38 capital ships. We have confirmed destruction of 12 klingon ships. As bad as this ratio is, it is much worse when you consider the klingons outnumber us. We have been rushing ships into production and should launch another 20 by the end of this month, but at this rate we will not be able to keep up with our losses. In light of this, I have been given a joint directive by the Chief Counsel for United Earth Governments, Ushi Irons and the President of the United Federation of Planets, Emory Ivonovic. They have ordered me to win by any means necessary. I am authorized to set aside any regulations or policies that interfere with that directive.”   
The commandant was accustomed to being listened to intently and to her orders being followed without question. Her antennae picked out several individuals as they shifted uncomfortably. Star Fleet lived and died on procedure and even the most rambunctious officers found the idea of setting policies and regulations aside ominous. The commandant couldn’t blame them. This is how coups got started and it was why Star Fleet required all officers to have a well-rounded, liberal education.  
Commandant th’Zoarhi gave her flag officers and captains another moment to ruminate, then said, “You may not be very happy with some of the things I must to do to meet that directive. It is not my job to make you happy. My job is to win this war. To that end, Rear Admiral Serge Mykel Chekov – front and center!”  
Barrett th’Zoarhi was considerably taller than average for an andorian and she towered over the bristly little Russian. She reached down, her light blue fingers deftly removing the rear-admiral bar from Chekov’s collar – a black bar with two gold pips – and replaced it with a similar bar with four gold pips.

“Serge Mykel Chekov, I have spoken with all of my flag officers. There is no disagreement. Because of your repeated demonstrated ability, I am setting aside regulations and skipping the rank of Vice Admiral. You are hereby promoted to the rank of Admiral and given command of all forward operations. I am giving you an order, Admiral. Take the first, fifth, sixth, seventh, ninth, tenth and twelfth fleets and drive the klingons out of Federation space, out of romulan space and back into their own borders as described in the Khitomer Accords. Arrange for whatever additional resources you may need.”  
Chekov stuck out his hand, palm up. “Give me that.”  
The commandant’s antennae flexed upward in surprise. She dropped the rear admiral rank insignia into Chekov’s outstretched hand.  
The captains and admirals in attendance had started to clap, but their applause died in confusion before it could begin.  
Admiral Chekov picked out one of the captains and pointed to her. “Captain Red, front and center. Get those pips off your collar…”  
Red was probably the only officer in the room shorter than Chekov. She was easily one of the youngest captains and had a reputation as a fighter.  
Chekov attached the rear admiral bar that had just been on his collar to hers. “Rear Admiral Red, take the sixth and seventh fleets and the U.S.S. Ark and break the siege of Vulcan. As soon as you have done that, take the Ark and whatever additional ships you need into the Romulan Star Empire and evict the klingons from Saketh.”  
The newly promoted Rear Admiral Red saluted smartly, then turned and started pointing at various captains as she left the stage without a word.  
“Well?” said Chekov to the remaining captains – his voice rough and loud. “Don’t just stand around. Get to your ships! We have a war to win!” As the various captains made their way silently from the assembly room, Chekov turned toward a muscular, Italian admiral whose olive features gave only a hint of his Japanese heritage. “Admiral Yasutake… Urban, can I borrow your prowlers?”

_*’aj (thlingn Hol - Admiral)_

27.8


	129. Episode 27.9 - The Sword of Destiny: T'May

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Enterprise - NCC 1701-F - has a new captain: Geordie's former first officer, T'May...

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 9: T’May

27.9  
T’May*

The U.S.S. Enterprise, N.C.C. 1701-F, was one of a kind. The ship had been designed just after the Third Borg Incursion, and launched less than two years after its predecessor had been retired. While the Enterprise E had remained in service for several years following its near destruction in battle with the Scimitar, the ship had never really recovered. Like its predecessor the Enterprise F was a prototype for a class that never went into production. Also like its predecessor, it was the fastest ship in the fleet until the Hunter had broken the warp 10 barrier.  
The Enterprise F was the first Star Fleet vessel with dedicated interceptor bays and was built with far heavier shielding and weapons than any other Star Fleet vessel. The Enterprise E was retired shortly after being severely damaged in the final battle of the War with the Dominion and the lessons learned from that battle had influenced the design of its successor: This new Enterprise had been built for war.  
  
“The facility Captain LaForge was being held in on Saketh has been completley destroyed by a romulan attack.” The face on the viewer in the captain’s office belonged to Rear Admiral Red. The Enterprise’s first officer, Commander T’May, was seated at the desk, gingerly massaging the back of her head. “We have not received any evidence of his survival. We are not declaring him dead, but we don’t have any leads on his wherabouts even if he is still alive. The Enterprise needs a captain, T’May. I am hereby promoting you to the rank of captain and assigning the Enterprise to you as your command. I need you to bring the ship back into the fight as soon as possible. Message ends.”  
T’May deactivated the viewer, then opened a drawer in Geordi’s desk - it was her desk now. She removed a small box, removed a single platinum rank pip and attached it to her collar. She decided against taking something for the pounding headache, choosing instead to control the pain through discipline rather than risk her mind being slowed by medication.

The Enterprise had received this message in the midst of a running battle with several klingon ships. Under T’May’s command, the Enterprise had single-handedly taken out a Vor’cha class cruiser, a Martok class cruiser and three birds of prey in one pitched battle and lost all five of her interceptors along with their 2-man crews in the process. The Enterprise had limped away from that encounter. So had an elderly G-class bird of prey.   
Both ships had made it into a vast gas cloud - a stellar nursery. This made the bird of prey’s cloaking device useless - but it was offline anyway. It made the shields for both ships useless - but they were both offline as well. It made the sensor arrays for both ships nearly useless, which they pretty much had been by the end of the battle anyway. No one on either ship was certain which ship was hunting the other. Surviving crew members on both ships were racing to make repairs. Entire decks on both ships were depressurized and exposed to space.

There was a predictable but unavoidable drop in morale when T’May stepped onto the bridge with four pips on her collar. “Midshipman Larek, put me through shipwide.”  
“Shipwide broadcast enabled, Captain,” the young vulcan replied. Larek was 100% vulcan and acted like one - but having been born and raised in Laredo, Texas, he had a thick Texas drawl that sounded strange coming from a vulcan - at least to T’May, who had been born and raised in Vulcana Regar and was always surprised at the odd mannerisms of terrestrial vulcans.   
“This is Captain T’May. I want to assure you that the search for Captain LaForge continues. But given the amount of time he has been held by the enemy, it is doubtful that he will return to the bridge of this vessel when he is found and returned to the Federation.” The new captain realized she was gripping her neck. Fortunately, her crew had not noticed. She quickly removed her hand, took a breath, and pushed the pain to the background again. “Until further notice, all crew members are to be armed at all times in case we are boarded. I am reducing status to Yellow Alert until further notice. Get some rest if you can. You might not get another chance soon. Hydrate. Injest sustainance. Maintain your strength.”

It was less than 20 minutes later when a broad swath of greenish lightning lit up the clouds of ionized gas that surrounded the Enterprise. Ionized gas that had filled some of the compartments that were open to space conducted electricity which supercharged open EPS ports and entered open conduits in those sections. Energy coursed throughout the ship, causing a few secondary explosions and playing havoc with systems throughout the ship, undoing many of the repairs.

“Should we return fire, Captain?” 2nd Lt. Brown Johnson was the surviving ranking bridge officer and had quickly taken on the role of executive officer.  
“That wasn’t weapons fire,” T’May responded. “One of their disruptor cannons exploded. But you should be able to determine the vector it came from.”  
“I have a vector, but not range,” responded a young tellerite ensign who was seated at what was left of the navigation station - which was having to double as the pilot station because the pilot station was completely destroyed. “And the vector is very wide.”  
“Consider the maximum possible speed for the Bird of Prey based on known condition, projected repairs and interference of the gas cloud and track the vector as it grows,” said T’May.   
“Red alert, Captain?” Johnson asked.  
“We don’t know where they are, how close they are or what condition they are in,” T’May responded. “The only thing that has changed is that we have a rough idea of where they aren’t. Ensign bav Orlan, make your course 20 degrees starboard, positive 15 degree angle on the bow. Take us away from them, Ensign.”  
“Shouldn’t we move toward them, sir?” asked Johnson. “They might be vulnerable if one of their cannons exploded… Captain?”  
T’May wondered why Lt. Johnson had a concerned expression and relized that she was grimacing. She disciplined her mind again, quickly erasing the signs of pain from her face and deliberately slowed her heartbeat. “I am calculating a 68…” Percentages suddenly failed her. “A high probability of a trap. There are unlikely to be more than 15 surviving crew members on that bird of prey. They will not hesitate to sacrifice their ship and their lives to destroy the federation’s flagship.”  
Lt. Johnson stepped up close, said very quietly, “Are you all right Captain?”  
T’May removed her hand from the back of her head - it seemed to have traveled there agianst her will. “I sustained an injury to the back of my head when we lost inertial dampeners on entering the cloud, but I will perservere. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

The bridge was quiet for a few moments. The working sections of the view screen displayed mostly static.  
Ensign Vreuess bav Orlan spoke up. “I think we’re receiving a transmission from the klingons, Captain. I’m only receiving audio.”  
“Put it through.”  
Most of the transmission was garbled beyond recognition and the universal translator did not have sufficient context to provide accurate translation: “ShhHoc elth goat for success, Captain Battle. Balth SuS doc arrangement greth hunt thanks Iw’hoc blood goat this day, Captain Battle. We salute threlth and your courageous crew. SuS oath death today!”  
T’May was gripping her head with both hands. The high pitched whine that had come through with the transmission had felt like it was driving a steel rod right behind her eyes. She deliberately pulled her hands away from her head.  
“Why did they call you Captain Battle?” asked bav Orlan.  
T’May’s voice was almost indistinct. “She was using my name, but the universal translator was malfunctioning. In thlingn Hol, t’may means battle.”  
“So it was our Captain Battle who destroyed five klingon ships today…” Ensign bav Orlan was clearly amused.   
“In my language, T’May means child of peace…” T’May gripped her head and groaned. Then something in the viewscreen caught her attention. She released her head and stepped up quickly to the viewscreen - her eyes only inches from it.  
The Enterprise’s new captain whirled. “REVERSE COURSE! Launch the ship’s log drone! They’re right in front of us!”  
“I’m trying, Captin, but the helm is not responding well,” said bav Orlan, her hands a blur on what remained of the navigation console.  
“How is that possible?” asked Lt. Johnson, only to see his new captain fall back against the viewscreen and grasp her head with both hands.  
“They left that cannon out there with a timed charge and flew right around us,” said Midshipman Larek. “They…”

Larek did not get to complete his sentence. What was left of the klingon bird of prey collided headlong at full speed into the port side of the U.S.S. Enterprise, driving its prow deep into the engineering hull. Only a heartbeat later, the remaining photon torpedoes in the klingon ship’s armory detonated, breaching the warp cores of both ships and setting the entire ionized gas cloud ablaze with forks of lightning and massive secondary explosions throughout the stellar nursery. The explosion was so intense that a condensed mass of gasses nearly a light-hour away was soon engulfed in celestial fire and a new star was born.

_*t’may (thlingn Hol - battle)_

27.9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Commander T'May  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Vulcan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Vulcana Regar, Vulcan  
> Introduced: Episode 27.9  
> Age when introduced: 86  
> Role: 1st Officer, U.S.S. Enterprise
> 
> Character: 2nd Lt. Brown Johnson  
> Human Ethnicity: African American  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Chicago, Illinois  
> Introduced: Episode 27.9  
> Age when introduced: 22  
> Role: Communications Officer, U.S.S. Enterprise
> 
> Character: Midshipman Larek  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Vulcan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Laredo, Texas, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 27.9  
> Age when introduced: 28  
> Role: Engineering Team Leader, U.S.S. Enterprise
> 
> Character: Ensign Vreuess bav Orlan  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Tellerite  
> Hometown/Homeworld: The Grukan, Tollt  
> Introduced: Episode 27.9  
> Age when introduced: 20  
> Role: Navigator, U.S.S. Enterprise


	130. Episode 27.11 - The Sword of Destiny: yav raD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Alaimo Marx gets the newest Andromeda class ship... and is grousing about how the fighting is going - or not going...
> 
>  _“You and your orcs will see action soon enough,” said Captain Budi... “Let me ask you this, Alaimo – how many Star Fleet vessels have we lost since Admiral Chicken took over?”_  
>  _“Eight,” replied the captain of the Eye of Sauron._  
>  _“Eight,” repeated the captain of the Milky Way. “And we have 16 confirmed kills. Our pre-Chicken ratio was 1 for 3. Now we’re 2 for 1..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I had General Washington in mind when I was thinking of Chekov's strategy against the Klingon Empire...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 11: yav raD  
  


27.11  
yav raD*

“They called him ‘Possum’ as an insult. Then they called him ‘Possum-Chicken’ as a compliment. Now they’re just starting to call him ‘Chicken’,” groused Captain Alaimo Marx. “When are we going to stop running away and give the klingons a fight?”

Captain Suparman Saldana Budi was giving the U.S.S. Eye of Sauron a final inspection before approving the new Andromeda class ship for its maiden voyage. Like the U.S.S. Milky Way, the U.S.S. Andromeda, the U.S.S. Hoag’s Object, the U.S.S. Pegasus and the U.S.S. Whirlpool, the Eye of Sauron was named after a galaxy**  
Only a few of the thousands of crew and contracted civilians aboard were aware of the literary significance of this name – in no small part because a sizable minority of these were bolians. But the ship also carried a contingent of 8,000 United Earth Governments Space Marines, mostly from North America, the 101st Brigade, who, when they learned the name of the ship they would be serving on, had quickly taken to calling themselves “Sauron’s Orcs.”

“You and your orcs will see action soon enough,” said Captain Budi. “Even these new Andromeda class ships aren’t much of a match for a Martok class cruiser in a fight – and the klingons hunt in packs. Our guns aren’t as powerful, these ships aren’t as maneuverable. We’re just big targets out here. But the one advantage we have is speed. We’re much, much faster than the klingons – and our engines are far more reliable and efficient. Let me ask you this, Alaimo – how many Star Fleet vessels have we lost since Admiral Chicken took over?”  
“Eight,” replied the captain of the Eye of Sauron.  
“Eight,” repeated the captain of the Milky Way. “And we have 16 confirmed kills. Our pre-Chicken ratio was 1 for 3. Now we’re 2 for 1. Everyone wants a pitched battle. So does Chekov. But that battle will happen on his terms – when and where Admiral Chicken wants to fight it. Until then, he’s going to run their nacelles off, spread them out like corn in a barnyard and peck at them. The more frustrated they become, the more likely they are to make a serious mistake that we can take advantage of.” 

Captain Budi escorted Captain Marx to his own office, just off the Eye of Sauron’s bridge. He waited for the door to close. “Okay Alaimo, you get your wish. You are to take this ship under cloak to Rising Sun and land your orcs. The romulans will be sending 1,500 ground support troops and significant air support resources.”  
“Only 1,500?” Captain Marx sagged into the chair behind his desk. “Suparman, I only have 8,000 marines. There are more than 80,000 klingons on Rising Sun. It’s one of the planets they clearly intend to keep.”  
“Who is in command of the 101st Brigade?” Budi asked.  
“Colonial Nancy Hope,” Marx replied.  
“Pass this along to her… Those 1,500 romulans are there to coordinate air support. They’re not front-line fighters although I strongly suspect they can take care of themselves. I don’t know much about this air force the romulans are bringing in – only that they’re supposed to be something really special...”

_*yav raD (thlingn - Ground Forces)_

_** The Eye of Sauron is an intermediate spiral seyfert galaxy in the Canes Venatici constellation._

27.11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Captain Alaimo Marx  
> Human Ethnicity: Polish  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Trantor, Cun Ling  
> Introduced: Episode 27.11  
> Age when introduced: 50  
> Role: Captain of the U.S.S. Eye of Sauron


	131. Episode 27.12 - The Sword of Destiny: HIv chegh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Rear Admiral Red contests the klingon siege of New Romulus on Vulcan...
> 
>  _After two months of fighting, hundreds of thousands of klingon soldiers were engaged in battle all over the dying planet, facing off the entrenched Praetorian Guard forces – the ranks of which included well over two million romulans, humans, vulcans and various hybrids..._  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 12: HIv chegh

27.12  
HIv chegh*

The U.S.S. Ark appeared in orbit over New Romulus on Vulcan. Vulcan was the center of the fighting for several reasons. Chancellor Greta Leifsdottor had announced the opening of hostilities by decloaking 111 Imperial Klingon Vessels in orbit and firing on the Romulan Praetorian Guard warbirds. Ostensibly, the cause for war was the Federation’s surrender of Vulcan to the Imperial Romulan Senate – which Chancellor Greta characterized as a violation of the Khitomer Accords.   
After two months of fighting, hundreds of thousands of klingon soldiers were engaged in battle all over the dying planet, facing off the entrenched Praetorian Guard forces – the ranks of which included well over two million romulans, humans, vulcans and various hybrids.  
The klingon ships were fast and powerful. The romulan ships were big and tough, their weapons even more powerful. For months these ships would cloak and de-cloak, rarely getting a chance to fire on the other before it ran off or vanished. The only time any vessels were truly at risk was when landing ground forces or rescuing crew from the wreck of another ship.

When the massive U.S.S. Ark – far larger than even the new romulan battlegods – de-cloaked, every other ship in the Vulcan system de-cloaked as well – the klingons in order to attack the Ark; the romulans in order to attack the klingons. A few klingon vessels were unfortunate enough to de-cloak or drift into the firing range of the Ark’s linear phaser cannon. With phaser beams the circumference of a bird of prey, the Ark simply obliterated 9 klingon ships in the first few moments of battle.   
Bay doors opened in each of the Ark’s four saucer sections as well as dozens more ports in the enormous, cigar-shaped engineering section and clouds of 2-man interceptors issued. Nearly a thousand of these headed down into the atmosphere of Vulcan. Klingon birds of prey broke off to hunt and destroy these tiny, lightly armored fighters, only to find themselves tracked and fired on by dark-skinned Prowler class ships coming out of high warp into the system.  
Larger klingon cruisers – both the Vor’cha and Martok class – tracked the Prowler class ships, only to find themselves targeted by a mixture of Intrepid and Escort class destroyers. Other klingon vessels that remained on course to attack the Ark found themselves swarmed by tiny interceptors that got inside their shielding and found soft targets. The Martok class cruisers had smaller disruptor emplacements that provided some protection from the interceptors, but the Vor’cha cruisers were largely unprotected and were soon venting plasma and atmosphere from hundreds of small breaches, their control and power systems interrupted and the ships increasingly helpless against what were essentially mosquitoes by comparison.

On the surface of Vulcan, klingon troops in open encampments found themselves targeted by strafing attacks from hundreds of interceptors. With birds of prey firing disruptors from orbit at these interceptors, the klingon ground forces were increasingly in the way of friendly fire from orbit as well.  
All of this fighting served to put a stop to the klingon advance. With their ground forces woefully outnumbered and now under attack from the skies, the klingons retreated to their base camps to regroup. Or so it at first appeared…

_*HIv chegh (thlingn - Counter Attack)_

27.12


	132. Episode 27.13 - The Sword of Destiny: may' tlhop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> President Emory Ivonovic receives an assessment of Admiral Chekov's war plan...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 13: may’ tlhop  
  


27.13  
may’ tlhop

“These continuing hostilities cannot be justified under the Khitomer Accords when more than half your fleet is not on the border, but actually deep inside Federation space, Chancellor Greta!” Federation President Emory Ivonovic was clearly outraged, but trying to keeping a lid on his temper. “Cease your hostilities and withdraw to the Khitomer borders and we can end this without more bloodshed. You came here in search of glory, but there is no glory without honor. And there is no honor in betraying your allies!  
“You claim you started this fight to control instability along our shared borders. But you are the source of that instability. The borg are coming, Chancellor. And if we are still at war when they arrive, they will take us apart. You have degraded our strength and wasted yours against a friend while a true enemy approaches. That is not the act of a great leader, Chancellor.”  
Ivonovic turned off the recorder and sat back in his chair. He was uneasy, feeling trapped in this highly guarded compound in Caracas, Venezuela – Earth was not safe anymore. The entire Federation was at risk. The Federation president turned and looked at his most trusted aide and Chief of Staff, Seiv th’Stavin. As he had several times over the past few years, Ivonovic found himself wondering how an andorian had ended up as one of his most trusted friends.

“Are you certain you want to transmit that?” th’Stavin asked. “A broadcast of that nature might be taken by the klingons as a sign of weakness.”  
“It is an attack with the only weapon I have available,” said Ivonovic. “Everyone is hiding behind this fiction that somehow everything will go back to the way it was before we, the romulans and the klingons all decided to crap all over the Khitomer Accords. I don’t think we’re going to be able to put this egg back into its shell.”  
“You humans in particular tend to suffer from a strange desire to go backward when forward is the only direction available,” th’Stavin observed.  
“Tell me what forward looks like and I’ll consider going there,” said Ivonovic. “Klingons on Rising Sun? A perpetual stalemate on Vulcan? Klingons and romulans slaughtering each other in the space over Saketh? And if we cannot move forward with the Saketh project, what is that going to do to the romulans?”  
“You need to understand what is going on with the klingons,” said th’Stavin. “I don’t think Chancellor Greta really had any great desire for war. She couldn’t stop it, so she got out in front and seems to be leading it. But this war has completely gotten away from her. Chekov understands this. It’s at the core of his strategy.”  
“Chekov has a strategy?” Ivonovic asked. “I was beginning to regret pushing for him to be in charge of the front. With the klingons chasing him back and forth all over the Federation, I don’t even know where the front is anymore.”  
“That’s because you think you’re at war with an empire,” said th’Stavin. “But that’s not what’s happening at all. The Federation and the Romulan Star Empire are being attacked by 41 greater or lesser families – noble houses. Each vying to establish its own territorial gains within the Federation or the empire – or both. Chekov is making them stomp all over each other’s feet. No sooner does a house establish what it thinks its gains within our space should be than Chekov leads a dozen other families into that territory and they start fighting with each other over the spoils. You know the numbers – since Chekov took command we have lost 28 ships. The klingons have lost 79 – but most of those were destroyed by other klingon vessels. If you want to end this war, you need to find the lever that will give Chancellor Greta enough power to make her nobles fall in line and do what she tells them to do…”

_*may’ tlhop (thlingn - Battlefront)_

27.13


	133. Episode 27.14 - The Sword of Destiny: pum Hegh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The 101st Brigade of the United Earth Governments Space Marines, North American Corps, charges into a hopeless battle...
> 
>  _Since the marines had started calling themselves ‘Sauron’s Orcs’, Col. Hope had read everything she could about orcs so she could use that assumed identity to help build morale. But she could not remember any orcish battle cries either from Tolkien’s literature or World of Warcraft. Fortunately, the marines did not need her help in that department..._  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> If I go back and tell more stories about this war, the nikamsitiri and the ground forces should be the stars of those stories...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 14: pum Hegh

27.14  
pum Hegh

The 101st United Earth Governments Space Marine Brigade, who had taken to calling themselves “Sauron’s Orcs,” had landed on Rising Sun. Led by Colonial Nancy Hope, the marines found themselves quickly surrounded and within weeks they were driven off Soda Toer and into the caves at the base of the cliffs under Goodstead – a group of villages on the continent near the Soda Toer Archipelago. These warriors, most of them from North America, were among the toughest Earth had to offer. But they had taken heavy casualties and were woefully outnumbered. Eventually, less than 5,000 surviving Earth Force Marines found themselves in three large groups huddled in a cavern system that ran along the base of the cliffs. They were facing well over 35,000 klingons entrenched on the beachhead around them. The U.S.S. Eye of Sauron had taken heavy damage while beaming the brigade down to the surface and had to retreat. Col. Hope did not know when she could expect space support.   
Fortunately, her troops were not under assault from space. With Star Fleet and Imperial Klingon Vessels constantly cloaking and de-cloaking in orbit, neither side had been able to establish space dominance or air dominance.

The 101st Earth Force Marines held their ground at the base of the cliffs against repeated klingon charges for more than a week before the romulans were able to land their forces.

“Give her room!” Col. Hope snapped. Two of her marines immediately took a half-step to the side, away from the romulan officer they were escorting, instantly aware they had gotten just a little too close. The romulan general did not change her expression or her gait.  
“Colonial Hope,” she said in crisp, precise English. “You are to take your troops and attack the klingon forces. You have twenty minutes to prepare your forces.”  
“I take it you are General Hokitha,” Hope said. “You seriously expect my marines to attack entrenched klingons on my order in twenty minutes?”  
“Are you a coward, simple, or simply hard of hearing?”  
“I am in need of more information before I give that order, General,” Hope said. “We are allies. I am not in your chain of command. I do not take orders from you.”  
“Do you know nothing about klingons?” asked Hokitha. “They will not wait for you in their trenches and mow you down with disruptors. Humans would. Cardassians would. We would. But not klingons. Not if your forces charge forward with battle cries instead of sneaking around like humans usually do. Attack them like klingons. Then, once the klingons are committed and charging toward you, order your forces to take the best cover they can find. Is that sufficient information, Colonial Hope?”  
“And when we take cover, your forces will attack?” asked Hope.   
General Hokitha locked eyes with Col. Hope for nearly a full, silent minute. Then: “Tell your humans to point their phasers at the klingons. Do not point them at the sky. You have 18 minutes.”

It took all of those eighteen minutes to transfer the orders and confirm that they were understood. Col. Hope’s words travelled with the orders. “You know you are charging into the face of certain death on the promise of help from people who have been your enemies all your life. This is no time to be human. We are not human. We do not fear death or pain. We are Sauron’s Orcs! Now go out and fight, you orcs! Let the klingons know they have met their match. FIGHT YOU ORCS!!”  
She would have added a battle cry to that, but she couldn’t think of one. Since the marines had started calling themselves ‘Sauron’s Orcs’, Col. Hope had read everything she could about orcs so she could use that assumed identity to help build morale. But she could not remember any orcish battle cries either from Tolkien’s literature or World of Warcraft. Fortunately, the marines did not need her help in that department. Apparently they had somehow conflated orcs with gorillas and began making deep, hooting yells and grunts – “Oooh! Oooh oooh oooh Oooh oooh oooh” – working themselves into a fever pitch. Then, with indistinct hoots, grunts and screams, they burst out of the caverns at the base of the cliffs and barreled toward the klingon positions.  
General Hokitha had accurately predicted the klingon response: the klingons left their disruptor rifles in their trenches and charged toward the charging marines with disruptor pistols and blades.

Getting soldiers to charge into battle, even into a hopeless one, is not exceptionally difficult. Getting charging soldiers to stop, take cover and pick their targets on cue took discipline. The kind of discipline the 101st Marines prided themselves in. Once the klingons were fully engaged, the orcs dropped to the sand and started picking their targets. With nothing more than a few scrubby bushes for cover, the orcs’ chances for survival in this battle dropped by more than half in the face of a charging horde of klingons. 

Until disruptor fire from above and to the left started mowing the charging klingons down. 

“Don’t get distracted, keep firing!” Hope ordered as she noticed the firing rate from her brigade dropping – they were looking for where the disruptor fire was coming from instead of picking targets.  
The combination of accurate phaser fire from in front and disruptor fire from the klingons’ left flank caused the klingons to group more heavily toward the center of their line, where they were immediately subjected to fragmentation bombing. Less than a third of the klingons who had left their trenches and committed to the charge survived to reach the orcs. There was still a pitched battle, but thanks to the help from above, the Marines of the 101st Brigade had a fighting chance.   
Above the fighting, a vast flock of large birds with disruptor rifles attached to their beaks circled, picked individual targets and dodged sporadic return fire from a small number ofklingons at the back of the line.

With help from their newfound romulan and avian allies, just under half of the Earth Gov forces that had taken part in the original landing had survived. With insufficient numbers to mount any attacks, they divided into small units to work cooperatively with the romulans and the nikamsitiri to conduct night raids and guerrilla attacks on the klingon forces, most of which were still concentrated in the once beautiful cities of Soda Toer.

_*pum Hegh (thlingn - Death From The Skies)_

27.14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Colonial Nancy Hope  
> Human Ethnicity: German American  
> Additional Species: Bajoran  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Austin, Texas, Earth  
> Introduced: Episode 27.14  
> Age when introduced: 43  
> Role: Commanding Officer, United Earth Governments Space Marines 101 E Brigade (Sauron's Orcs)
> 
> Character: General Hokitha  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Romulan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Born aboard the I.R.W. Eros  
> Introduced: Episode 27.14  
> Age when introduced: 88  
> Role: Commanding Officer, 1st Imperial Romulan Air Force Wing


	134. Episode 27.15 - The Sword of Destiny: Qo'noS luchenmoH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A klingon and a romulan work together to try to save two wounded and starving human Star Fleet officers..
> 
> “Gods. Romulans. Klingons. Gamma waves. We aren’t the chosen people. Just self-important lumps of leftover stellar matter. Toys for a mindless universe that gave us birth and will soon enough kill us, never caring, never even knowing that we were ever here...”  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 15: Qo'noS luchenmoH.

  
27.15  
Qo'noS luchenmoH.*

The klingon guard, l’SaH, had given up trying to return her prisoners to any territory held by the Klingon Imperial Forces. The shielded facility they had escaped from had been completely leveled, along with an entire city around it. The klingons had captured that city, but there must have been close to 100,000 romulans and somewhere around a quarter million hemra living there. Romulan torpedoes had killed everyone in the area - klingon, hemra and romulan alike.  
l’SaH had barely gotten her two Star Fleet prisoners out in time. They had insisted on bringing the wounded romulan officer along with them and it had been easier for l’SaH to carry her than wait for her to hobble along on her broken leg. The klingon guard was well outside her authority and had no doubt she had violated dozens of regulations - all because of a charming, blind human.

Four days of walking had brought them to the edge of a vast forest. Since none of her prisoners were in any condition to climb, l’SaH got up into the trees to gather about a dozen large nuts. The romulan woman, Subcommander Cireeka, had told her these nuts were good food and seemed to relish them. They tasted nasty to l’SaH, but they settled her stomach. The humans could not digest the chicolo nuts and after four days without food, the two men were weak with hunger.  
With no chance of finding food anywhere else, l’SaH and Cireeka had decided to move the party deeper into the woods in search of food, water and shelter as well as some refuge from the endless fighting. The two women had to work together to keep the humans alive. Cireeka’s burns were healing, but Commander Reginald Barclay wasn’t doing so well. Part of the cast on his broken arm had been cut away so that Cireeka could treat his burns, but without food, not enough water and the stress of travel, his body was not healing well and the burn wounds were weeping pus mixed with blood.

l’SaH had left the two starving humans in Cireeka’s care. Those three - one with a broken leg, one with a broken arm and the other one blind - weren’t going anywhere without her. But they couldn’t go any farther without food either and there was food on the hoof to be found in this forest.

“Drop the ax, klingon.”  
  
Whatever the indiginous, hooved, horned herbavore was that had not heard l’SaH approach, it had fled as soon as the as yet unseen man had spoken. Neither l’SaH nor her prey had heard him approach.  
“It is a mek’leth,” she said, holding the curved, sword-like weapon out to her side.   
“Drop the mek’leth, klingon.”  
“I have wounded people. I’m taking care of them.”  
“And they are why you are still alive, klingon.”  
“l’SaH. My name is l’SaH.”  
“Drop the mek’leth, l’SaH. Or I drop you.”  
l’SaH carefully leaned her weapon againt a tree. “Weapons should not be treated with disrespect,” she said.

The moment she stepped away from it, her weapon was melted by a disruptor blast.

l’SaH whirled and bared her fangs, growling. “That weapon has been in my family for generations!” She was astonished to see a human in strange clothing pointing a romulan disruptor pistol at her.  
“Life should not be treated with disrespect. Generations of my family were murdered by your people, klingon.”  
l’SaH looked at the man carefully. “You’re not human. You’re hemra.”  
“Very similar to humans on the outside. Not so similar on the inside. Don’t worry about your weapon, l’SaH. It will do no more evil.”  
The hemra guided l’SaH to a trail, making her walk in front of him. For several moments they followed the trail in silence.   
“Your name, hemra?”  
“I am Di’ig.”  
“Your family, were they warriors?”  
“They were slaves,” said Di’ig. “They would never have been allowed to touch a weapon. And if ever they did, they would have pointed those weapons at romulans before challenging a klingon.”  
“They should not have been harmed,” said l’SaH. “Slavery is dishonorable. We come to free slaves, not to kill them.”  
Di’ig did not respond.   
After a few more moments of silence, l’SaH asked, “Were they Shivans?”  
Di’ig made a grimly amused noise. “My people are deeply spiritual. Only a few million of us survived the steralization of our homeworld. My ancestors came to this planet to make a new home. They were the chosen people. Chosen by God. Then the romulans came and enslaved us. Some people said God had forsaken us because we were disobedient. Others went looking for a new god. And a new god found them. Shiva the Devourer. And now there’s an even newer god - Shiva the Restorer. My family were not only slaves to the romulans, but also to these false gods they had chosen to worship.”

l’SaH did not respond for several moments.  
Then: “We killed our gods. They were troublesome.”

Di’ig gave another short, grim laugh.  
“Gods. Romulans. Klingons. Gamma waves. We aren’t the chosen people. Just self-important lumps of leftover stellar matter. Toys for a mindless universe that gave us birth and will soon enough kill us, never caring, never even knowing that we were ever here.”

_*Qo’noS luchenmoH. (thlingn Hol - the Gods)_

27.15


	135. Episode 27.16 - The Sword of Destiny: puv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Mor'rgoth's warriors go bird hunting... in ultralight aircraft...

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 16: puv  
  


27.16  
puv*

Tis, Craul and Wast wove a crazy pattern to avoid the disruptor fire. The pursuing klingons now had an overwhelming advantage in numbers. The number of ultralights whipping around back toward the large birds had increased again - 16 ultralights now.   
The klingon ultralights had the advantage in speed.  
The nikamsitiri had the advantage in maneuverability.  
Both flew in nearly complete silence except for the noise of their disruptors.

In the first few weeks after the Battle of the Goodstead Cliffs, while the 101st United Earth Force Marines had broken into smaller units to carry out clandestine attacks against the klingons, the nikamsitiri had ruled the skies, raining down disruptor fire and grenades on the Imperial Klingon Forces whenever they ventured outside the cities.  
That air superiority was short-lived.

Before the klingon invasion, ultralight aircraft were a rare luxury item on the Colony of Rising Sun, manufactured exclusively at a single workshop in Soda Toer. Planetary Governor Mor’rgoth had conscripted the workshop and the craftsmen - turning them into trainers and the workshop into a mechanized factory for mass production. And klingon warriors fell in love with fighting in the air.

16 klingon warriors shot wildly at the trio of nikamsitiri they were pursuing - wildly because they had to steer their tiny aircraft with one hand while leaning out of the cockpit to shoot at the birds with disruptor pistols. The nikamsitiri were far more accurate as their romulan-made disruptors were custom mounted to their beaks and operated by mouth movements. And the birds were naturally far better fliers. The klingons attacked simultaneously from four sides and from above.  
Tis, Craul and Wast confused their attackers by grouping, then flying apart at the last minute just as the klingons approached. Wast bore down on one ultralight, bringing it down with a single, highly accurate disruptor blast while two more klingons bore down on her from above. She twisted aerobatically, bringing her disruptor to bear on the attackers, bringing them both down with rapid, impressively accurate fire - but one of the klingons managed to catch her in his glide path, crashing into her with his ultralight and hurling her to the ground with him.  
There was nowhere for Tis and Craul to escape - no forest, no cliffs, no tall buildings.Both birds dived for the ground, hugging the contours of the land, skimming the hilltops at less than 20’. Five of their pursuers tried the same tactic with various success - three of them crashing into the ground at high speed because of the limited mobility of their aircraft. The ultralights simply weren’t designed for this kind of flying. But they served their purpose. The remaining klingons were able to attack from above, bringing both birds to the ground, killing one and severely wounding the other.

_*puv (thlingn Hol - flying)_

27.16


	136. Episode 27.17 - The Sword of Destiny: 'ul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freshman Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper goes on a dangerous mission to rescue her romulan lover.

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 17: ‘ul

27.17  
‘ul*

Months of rigerous training under Flight Chief Thyssi zh’Qaoleq, along with the occasional lesson from Star Fleet’s most famous pilot, Captain Kenneth Dolphin, had given Jennifer Hopper confidence as well as new skills. Disguised as space debris (which there was no shortage of in orbit of Vulcan) the young flight specialist and her first officer made the transition from space to stratosphere on a glide path along with a patch of flaming debris. Flight suit training was not standard for Star Fleet pilots, but it was required for the U.S.S. Hunter’s flight team.  
The debris they were flying with might have come from several different spacecraft. The atmosphere specific flight suits had been made to order by Pomm Irons. The mission plan was totally Napoleon Boles. The U.S.S. Hunter’s 1st officer wasn’t the most pleasant person to spend time with, but there was probably not a more innovative officer in the fleet. And Jennifer, half romulan, felt that Napoleon, the gruff half bolian, really understood her. Misfits. Outsiders.  
The debris swiftly ablated in the Vulcan sky, along with the outer portions of their flight suits and finally the micro-intertial dampeners built into their suits. In order to avoid detection, they delayed deploying their triangular fixed wings until they were over the Forge. The fixed wings above them and landing skids below deployed simultaneously. While the Hunter’s small rescue team were traveling very fast, the heat of Vulcan’s hottest desert provided additional lift. The wings had been reinforced specifically for this sort of high speed landing. Additional parachutes had been added as well and Hopper and Boles used these for rapid decelleration. They skidded several hundred yards before coming to a stop on the sands of the Forge - blazing hot even in the early pre-dawn hour.

A two mile walk across these sands was almost too much for Commander Boles, despite being half-human. Bolians were not well adapted to the heat. Which was one of many reasons they had chosen the pre-dawn hour to land. Historically, there had never been any sort of relief from the blasting heat of the Forge at the T’Karath Sanctuary in Mt. Langon. But with a growing number of humans, andorians and other refugees sheltering from the war in this holiest of sanctuaries on Vulcan, a large cool room had been installed and an even larger such room was under construction.

“If I allow you to go through with this, I will be violating the agreement I made with Chancellor Greta that keeps this sanctuary from becoming a target.” An aging klingon with graying hair and a gray beard stood among the vulcan priests. He was dressed as an acolyte, but appeared to have more authority than even the most senior priests.  
“And you cannot keep these people here. The klingons will violate that agreement to get thier hands on them,” Boles replied. “Not to mention the romulans.”  
“I am aware of this,” said Worf. “I was the one who alerted you to this situation. My point is that we can only do this once. A single use of this technology is an anomoly. More than once and it will be recognized. We will be very fortunate if it is not recognized the first time we use it.”  
“Have they observed the unaltered phenominom?” Boles asked.  
One of the vulcan priests responded. “It has happened 14 times since the klingon assault forces landed. It is a naturally occurring phenominom. They have come here four times to investigate. They did not find the transit chamber. But we have only sent test masses to T’Khut of less than 10 kilograms.”

As her first officer went over the rescue plan with the vulcans who ran this place and the klingon who made it possible for them to continue running it in spite of the war, Jennifer Hopper tuned out and went looking for someone. The person they had come to rescue was being treated in a private room in the infirmary. She visited this room and found that Premiere Messick, the head of the Vulcan High Command in Exile, was barely conscious. By far the youngest vulcan to ever hold that title, Messick had negotiated a number of environmental truces between the House of Shozek and Senate of New Romulus on Vulcan, which had resulted in the klingons taking control of the Regar Sea Restoration Project under Counsellor Shozek.   
Messick’s teenage son was tending to him. Both father and son had long, dark red hair and thick red beards - colors not native to vulcans - gifts from a distant Italian ancestor. The son asked very quietly, “Are you the pilot? I was told you were young.”  
“Jennifer Hopper. You are Paul?”  
“Paul Appian.”  
“Did Commander Nikato make it here with you?” Hopper asked.  
“The romulans wanted him even more than they wanted us. He took a different route into the Forge to throw them off our trail,” the premiere’s son replied. “Centurian Javel was with him. But romulans aren’t as well adapted to this kind of heat as vulcans are. And if the storms damaged their equipment, they might have gotten lost. This is the stormy season.”  
“I thought you were negotiating on behalf of the Senate,” Hopper said.  
“The Senate is divided. There is a large faction that resisted turning the planetary capital over to the klingons. And the klingons are no more capable of getting us safely off planet than anyone else. The meeting was bombed. General Shozek was badly wounded too. We’re not very popular with anyone at the moment.”

Jennifer Hopper quickly returned to her first officer and asked permission to search for the missing romulan officers.  
“The only aircraft you can conceal from the klingons are our propelled dirigibles.” One of the priests was responding to a question from Commander Boles. “The storm front will be here in approximately 14 hours. Flight will become increasingly dangerous. And once the storms are here, you won’t have many chances to use the transport chamber.”  
“Please ready the craft,” Boles said, then turned to his pilot. “If you’re not back in 14 hours, I will join Premiere Messick and his son in the transport chamber. We will only get one chance at this, so if you aren’t back when the transport charge is ready, you will be stranded here. Probably for the remainder of this war. And it will be too dangerous for you to keep Nikato in this sanctuary.”  
The elderly vulcan priest turned toward Hopper. “Once the storms start you must land. A direct lightning strike to the dirigible could be fatal. Avoid the hilltops and the valleys. Electricity travels through the sands so shelter on the rocks if the storm catches you.”  
“On, not under?” asked Hopper.  
“During the storms, sand turns to a thin mud and everything slides, including rocks. Sheltering under them is not advised.”

Hopper had trained on ultralight aircraft, but she had before never flown a dirigible. The three, independently adjustable, battery powered propellers gave some semblance of control, but the buoyancy of the aircraft and its tiny mass made it very much the plaything of the wind. While it was a bright, sun-drenched day in the Forge, to the west, violent, towering stormclouds were spreading darkness and lightning at the edge of the desert.   
As the winds grew stronger and more erratic, the tiny balloon was buffetted, making it increasingly difficult for Hopper to maintain the planned search pattern or to keep her eyes on the sand. The winds were whipping up sand devils, some of which sparked with electricity.  
A bolt out of the blue ended her search befire she was two hours out from the sanctuary. She had no idea where the lightning came from - it seemed to come from everywhere. The frame of the dirigible was designed to route lightning away from the balloon and insulate the cockpit, but Jennifer’s hair was standing on end from static. The lightning melted the batteries, leaving the propellers inoperable. Part of the frame broke and penetrated the bag, causing the heated gasses to escape and the dirigible rapidly lost altitude.   
Hopper closed the canopy and hit the releases moments before the airframe and bag nosed into the sands. The cockpit hit hard and rolled into the broken airframe and the canopy popped off, whacking Jennifer hard in the head. She fought hard for consciousness, her head bobbing and drooping. The cockpit rolled and came to rest on its side, leaving her head hanging down at an uncomfortable angle. She had come to rest several feet away from the airframe, which was attracting multiple lightning strikes. Jennifer passed out to the roar of repeated thunder.

_*’ul (thlingn Hol - electricity)_

27.17


	137. Episode 27.21 - The Sword of Destiny: vIt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The mostly human Klingon Chancellor Greta Leifsdottor is on an urgent errand in The Forge - the sacred desert on New Romulus on Vulcan.  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> It is not entirely by accident that the leaders of the three great powers of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants are all at least half human...  
> .  
> The end is near... The end of Star Trek Hunter, that is. There is one more scene in this episode, then it will be time for Episode 28: The Covenant (the final episode.)  
> I had always envisioned Star Trek Hunter as a story with a beginning, a middle and an end. Not an open ended series that goes on forever...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 21: vIt

27.21  
vIt*

“I have to know the truth.” Greta Leifsdottor’s porcelain skin was reddened, but not from the sun. She had covered herself thoroughly with a large, hooded white robe commonly used by the natives. Her skin was flushed just from the dry, blasting heat of the Forge. It was the only sign she would allow of her intense discomfort in this blazing inferno. She held up the Sword of QeyliS. “I feel it singing in my blood. I feel it calling me to destiny. I feel it telling me to lead our people to greatness.”

In a cavern near the summit of Mt. Langon was one of the holiest of all vulcan sanctuaries. Only two non-vulcans had come close to completing the Kolinahr ritual. One was half-vulcan – the famous Ambassador Spock. The other was seated on the cavern floor before Greta. He was also wearing a voluminous white robe and hood. Only his hands betrayed his race and his age. His pungent musk filled the cavern. The aging klingon allowed the silence to build. Greta was a strong person, not given to self-doubt. She had said what she had come to say and was awaiting an answer.

Worf waited a full five minutes, looking down, thinking. He stood up, removed the hood, revealing his face and looked Chancellor Greta in the eye. She towered over him. His words had a slow, emphatic cadence. “This is not greatness.”

“I cannot give every order by this sword,” said Greta.   
“You do not seem to be able to give any orders at all!” Worf observed. “Why are you wandering around in the desert on Vulcan seeking visions while your warriors are killing and dying on a hundred battlefields scattered throughout the Alpha Quadrant?”  
“I need to know, and you are the only one who can tell me, is this the true Sword of QeyliS?” Greta handed the sword to Worf.  
“If you are able to hand it to me, either this is not the real sword, or you are the only person strong enough to carry it,” said Worf.

It seemed to take several minutes for Greta to hand the sword to Worf – and for him to take it. She stepped back.

“Yes. I remember this. I can feel its song in my heart, calling me to lead our people. But I was not worthy of it. Battle has made its call far, far stronger than when I held it last. It still calls to me, but it is not for me. You must take it from me, Chancellor. Even with all the training I have received here – to master my passion – I do not have the strength to hand it back to you.”

Greta stepped forward and took the sword from Worf. She had to jerk it hard to remove it from Worf’s grasp - he would not let go. He snarled and growled deep in his throat – only for a moment. Once he was no longer touching the sword, he stopped, took a deep breath, then pulled the white hood back over his head, concealing his face. She could only see his dark eyes glinting in reflected light.

“That is the true Sword of QeyliS. You are the heir and the one destined to carry it. You must lead our people to greatness. But to do that, first you must actually lead our people! Leadership is not about giving orders. It is about vision. What makes our people great is victory. This war, it is against our allies. There can be no honor. There can be no victory.”  
“Victory over what?” asked Greta.  
“Do you not know already?” asked Worf. “We, our friends, our allies, even the romulans – especially the romulans – we all face the same enemy. Not an intelligent enemy but a brute force of nature. That enemy will kill all of our people. That is what you must lead our people to victory against…”

_*vIt – (thlingn – The Truth)_

27.21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Worf  
> Human Ethnicity: N/A  
> Additional Species: Klingon  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Camp Khittomer  
> Introduced: Episode 27.9  
> Age when introduced: 68  
> Role: Champion


	138. Episode 27.18 - The Sword of Destiny: 'Iw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood is shed

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 18: ’Iw  
  


27.18  
‘Iw*

An odd chuckling sound filled the early pre-dawn darkness of the Carolyn Kirk Saavik Wildlife Preserve and Cultural Heritage Site located on the large central island of the Soda Toer Archipeligo on the federation colony of Rising Sun. Hundreds of voices - thousands of voices - were chuckling mirthlessly.

The sound grew in intensity under a glorious sunrise, the reliability of which had given the planet its name. Thousands of humans and romulans were kneeling in the fields. They had fallen to one knee after having stepped into chucklehorn burrows. The romulans were in uniform as were the majority of the humans - members of the 101st United Earth Marines who had taken to calling themselves “Sauron’s Orcs.” A few other humans were in civilian clothing but wore caps bearing the initials RSR (Rising Sun Rangers).   
These warriors were dead, but their bodies continued to fight for air - air that could now only be used for chuckling. Their mouths and eyes were open wide - their faces frozen into manic expressions as their bodies were wracked with spasms, causing them to make a loud, chuckling sound for which the tiny, indiginous herbivores that had poisoned them were named.

Klingon ground forces had compelled a small number of andorians to walk across these fields as well, but, being light and agile, most of the andorians managed to avoid the hidden lairs, only to face a line of klingon warriors at the other edge of the field. Only a small number of humans and almost none of the romulans made it through this deadly gauntlet. Each had been provided a single, bladed weapon of their choice but after having been kept prisoner for weeks, the stress of crossing a mile of deadly terrain and seeing their comrades meet a horrifying fate, there was little fight left in them. Planetary Governor Mor’rgoth had restricted the weapons available to the klingon warriors who were waiting to engage these few survivors - they were only to use a d’k tagh or other sort of knife in order to make the fights more interesting for him to watch.  
Colonial Nancy Hope, General Hokitha and a small number of nikamsitiri watched this carnage helplessley, chained to peytons that had been driven into the rock foundation of the ancient, pentagonal, open-air shelter that still served as Governor Mor’rgoth’s headquarters. The nikamsitiri were restrained by their necks and feet, their wings bound to their sides.  
Mor’rgoth was in an uncharacteristicly good mood, urging the allied humans, andorians and romulans across the field. “Do not delay! Every 13.5 of your minutes that go by I will kill another of your flying petaqs!” He made good on this threat with a massive battle ax, embedding it into the chest of one giant bird after another. It was a fatal wound designed to provide a long, agonizing death.  
The klingon planetary governor turned to the largest bird. “But worry not, wing leader - or whatever you call yourself. You I will not kill. You I will…”

Governor Mor’rgoth was taken by surprise as the bird easily snapped free of its chains and in a fluid lunge captured the governor’s head in its beak, in a single motion twisting the planetary governor’s head off and spitting it out - a gruesome missile.  
Several nearby klingons advanced, weapons raised.

“STOP!!”

General LariS’s voice was sufficient to prevent a retaliatory attack. For the moment, the nikamsitiri wing leader remained still.  
“Stay put!” LariS said to the bird, then stepped forward to the line where the combined romulan, human and andorian fighters were bieng slaughtered. “ENOUGH!! Let them through!” She turned to the fighters. “Drop your weapons. This fight is over. Colonial Koth, corrall and care for the prisoners.” She gestured toward the thousands of animated, chuckling corpses. “And clean that up.”  
A number of other klingons milled about the governor’s decapitated body in confusion. LariS turned quickly and walked toward them.  
“Do not lift your voices for him,” LariS said to them. “Mor’rgoth was our greatest general, but he will not be joining the honored dead in Stovokor. His heart was green with corruption. He did not fight for honor. He fought for the love of causing pain.”  
LariS stepped in front of her prisoners, turned to face the klingon soldiers who were starting to gather. “I am taking Mor’rgoth’s place as planetary governor. General Keqi’S, you are promoted to Adjutent General. You will serve as my adjutent. Your first order is to secure all of our prisoners, planetwide, and ensure they are treated according to the requirements of the Khitomer Accords.”  
“Gener… Governor LariS, the Khitomer Accords have been broken,” Keqi’S replied.  
“Nevertheless, you will obey my order.” LariS spoke without anger, but her stern tone and expression made it clear that her orders were not to be questioned.  
“Yes, Governor,” the newly promoted Adjutent General Keqi’S responded.

“Understand me,” LariS said in a loud voice, “and make others understand. This is my world now and I will have peace on it. If this world is to be held for House Surga as a protectorate of the Empire, we must make these people our people. Prisoners of war are to be held according to the requirements of the Khitomer Accords. Criminals are to be tried according to local customs, but under our supervision.”  
She turned to the chained Col. Hope and General Hokitha. “General Keqi’S, why are these prisoners still in chains?”  
“Karq,” said Keqi’S in return. She gestured to a nearby soldier, who, in turn, stepped foward and began the rather intricate process of freeing the two allied leaders from their chains.  
“You will order the remainder of your forces to surrender,” LariS said to Hokitha. She turned toward Hope. “And you will do the same and advise all resistance fighters to surrender. They can expect fair treatment if they comply. They can expect death and seizure of their families’ property if they do not. The fighting continues in orbit, but on the surface of my world, this war is over.”  
“And the empty shell of General Mor’rgoth?” asked Keqi’S.  
“Compost,” said LariS. “Let his blood nuture the flowers.”

_*’Iw (thlingn Hol - blood)_

27.18


	139. Episode 27.22 - The Sword of Destiny: Su'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> This is the final scene in Episode 27. Episode 28 is the final episode - only 8 more posts to the end of this story...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 27: The Sword of Destiny  
Scene 22: Su’

  
27.22  
Su’

Despite scattered victories and with the exceptions of the stalemates on and in orbit of Vulcan and Saketh, Star Fleet and the Romulan Star Navy were losing this war. Klingon forces were now entrenched on more than 30 planets within the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. Wherever klingon ships attacked, Star Fleet and the Romulan Star Navy were forced to retreat. 

And then the fighting just stopped. Weapon systems would not respond. Klingon ground forces stopped advancing. With phasers and disruptors suddenly inoperable, Star Fleet and Romulan ground forces retreated. 

Every viewscreen in the Alpha Quadrant suddenly went blank. Every tricorder screen went blank. Every reader went blank. All holographic systems went down. On planets where pre-warp populations had developed television and radio but were not yet aware of the vast number of advanced civilizations all around them - those primitive television and computer screens, monitors and cell phones went blank. Screens that did not have power suddenly activated - even if they were not connected to a power source.

Then on each screen, in homes, theaters, offices, ships, and on public billboards, using the language of the people looking at them, were displayed the following words. These same words were spoken throughout the Alpha Quadrant on sophisticated comm systems, wire networks and primitive radio receivers alike:

“PLEASE STAND BY FOR THE FOLLOWING IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT”

_*Su’ – (thlingn – Stand By)_

27 – The Sword of Destiny


	140. Episode 28.1 - The Covenant: Collective Renaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> After more than a decade of dilapidation and defeat, the borg re-emerge as a great power throughout the Milky Way galaxy...
> 
> _“Even with every borg cube in the galaxy and assuming we can double their numbers over the next hundred years and maintain exponential growth following that, we still have no chance of repairing enough of the Hulk to protect the entire Alpha Quadrant from the gamma wave front,” said Rear Admiral Sarekson Carrera, Director of Star Fleet Temporal Command..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A different will is driving the borg - toward a different purpose...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 28: The Covenant  
Scene 1: Collective Renaissance

28.1  
Collective Renascence

“We are the borg. Cease fire and return to your home system or you will be assimilated. You have one minute to comply.”

The borg had not issued any communication at all to their antagonists in years – they had just been fighting it out with and running from one former victim after another – enemies energized by the borgs’ sudden vulnerability, their lack of cohesion and their apparent inability to make decisions. The great collective of voices that had terrorized 10,000 civilizations throughout the Milky Way Galaxy had suddenly fallen silent and in an instant, instead of an unstoppable force, the borg had become a withering people, their mighty ships easy prey for determined looters and vengeful enemies once decimated by this formerly undefeatable foe.

Throughout the Milky Way, thousands of ships were attacking the few hundred remaining borg cubes when those cubes suddenly came alive – their shields came back up, their ships began repairing themselves. Of the thousands of ships carrying hundreds of thousands of pirates and hardened warriors from nearly a thousand different species, no more than 30 crews took advantage of the single minute they were given to turn tail and flee from a newly re-energized collective.  
As soon as that minute passed, every ship attacking a borg vessel fell silent. Their crews were taken in the blink of an eye onto the borg cubes and made borg in a process far more inexorable than ever before. Individual pirates and warriors were not chased down by borg drones and injected with nanites – the nanites were simply beamed directly into the blood stream of everyone on board every enemy vessel at once and they were fully assimilated by the time they were beamed over to the nearest cube.  
Then began the slightly slower process of the borg drawing in each of their adversaries’ ships to be cannibalized for parts to repair the dilapidated giant cubes. Each cube moved toward the ships that had been attacking – thousands of ships of every description began apparently disassembling themselves into component structures, which in turn began streaming toward the borg cubes. Hull plating, engine nacelles, large structural beams, tiny rivets, even the gasses and drive plasma streamed in component parts, continuing to further disassemble as the pieces were drawn into the borg cubes as if by giant vacuum cleaners in space. Each ship that had been on the attack only minutes before was fully disassembled by the time its parts reached the nearest borg cube.  
At the same time, each cube could be seen repairing itself. Hull plating that had been crumpled for decades, now straightened itself out into smooth, flat plating as if it were being ironed from the inside. 

A new, singular will was uniting the borg and driving them. He had transported from the lavardorn, Minerva, onto the borg cube that she was floating inside, there to unite directly with the borg. They were not assimilating him. He was assimilating them.

Inside Minerva, the remaining companions of the new borg king were planning. He was able to hear them and speak to them through the emancipated borg drone, 3rd of 5, known affectionately as ‘Hugh.’ 

“Even with every borg cube in the galaxy and assuming we can double their numbers over the next hundred years and maintain exponential growth following that, we still have no chance of repairing enough of the Hulk to protect the entire Alpha Quadrant from the gamma wave front,” said Rear Admiral Sarekson Carrera, Director of Star Fleet Temporal Command. “But we don’t really need to protect a lot of empty space,” he continued. “What we need to protect is life environments and trade routes. It will take nothing short of a nightmarish amount of math to calculate which parts of the Hulk must be repaired and in what order so that every star system with life or potential for life is protected from the gamma wave front.”  
“The borg can do the math,” said Hugh, speaking both for himself and for the new borg king. “We just need the raw data. The location of star systems that need protection. The location of the trade routes that must be protected. And the location and vector of the approaching gamma wave fronts.”  
“But we don’t have all of that information,” Old Man Crusher objected. “Trade routes will need to be negotiated.”  
“More importantly, we are far from having visited all of the star systems in the Alpha Quadrant,” objected Dr. Mlady. “Your people are only now beginning to map the locations of brown and red dwarf systems and we now know those systems can support life. The Federation is only now beginning to exploit some of these environments for colonization.”

“Minerva is pregnant,” said the blue avatar.

“Well, that was a bit of a non-sequitur,” Dr. Tali Shae observed.  
“Not entirely,” the avatar replied. “She was impregnated before her pod sent her here from the Whale Galaxy. Their purpose in sending her here was to create a pod within this galaxy. Her partnership with us serves her purpose to create an environment for the pod she will give birth to. Over the next thirty years, she will birth about 200 pups. Each pup will need about 20 years to mature to the point of being able to physically support a small crew like yourselves – no more than three at first.”

“Will they be, as Minerva is, impervious to gamma radiation?” asked Dr. Carrera.  
“It will take each pup about a hundred years to grow skin thick enough to withstand the gamma wave front,” said the avatar, “but as you know, Minerva obtains energy by resting in the corona of a star. Once their skin is thick enough, her pups will be able to do the same.”  
“200 teams of scientists, traveling at the speeds that Minerva is capable of,” mused alien Bob, “they could map the entire Alpha quadrant and then map the gamma wave front.”  
“All we need now is enough borg to repair the Hulk,” said Dr. Carrera.

Hugh spoke up: “King Prometheus says he has a plan for that. But you’re probably not going to like it…”

28.1


	141. Episode 28 - The Covenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The final Episode of the Star Trek Hunter series.  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> It's been a long story - thank you for sticking with it!!  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
**Episode 28: The Covenant

Episode 28 – The Covenant

 _“Were the borg created as a slave race to do the bidding of some ancient progenitor? Or are they the result of a highly technologically advanced society’s attempt at utopia? Whatever their ancient origins, the borg claimed to have been seeking perfection for as long as any record of contact with them has survived. While their idea of utopia ostensibly involves the complete sharing of thought and experience at the expense of individuality, it is clear that individual drones, once separated from the collective, are able to access their own memories and begin to develop individual personalities in a process that is at once traumatic and completely natural.  
_ _“On separation from the collective, individual drones experience severe withdrawal symptoms combined with an intense desire to return to the intimacy of the collective. These withdrawal symptoms, accompanied by severe clinical depression, can last for several weeks – even years – and can be fatal. For the returned, the recurring desire to subsume their individuality once again into the collective apparently never goes away. But the returned almost invariably come to treasure their independence and will fight for their freedom even more fiercely than those who have never been assimilated.  
_ _“The question remains about the borg experience and those few drones we have rescued from it: Have we rescued them from a nightmare existence? Or have we pried them away from utopia?”_

 _Admiral Kathryn Janeway –_ _The Returned: Life After the Collective_ _._

Crew of the U.S.S. Hunter: (Ship's Interactive Holographic Avatar - Hunter)

Captain Napoleon Boles  
Chief Executive Officer – Commander Gaia Gamor  
Chief Operations Officer – Lt. Commander Moon Sun Salek

  
Medical Director – Lt. Commander Jazz Sam Sinder  
Asst. Medical Director – 2nd Lt. Gabriella Griff  
Ensign Sif  
Forensic Specialist – Midshipman Kunto Wekesa (nickname Kit)  
Forensic Specialist – Midshipman Raaven (rhymes with cabin)  
Emergency Medical Hologram – Dr. Raj  
Tactical Medical Hologram – Dr. Kim  
.  
Director of Flight Operations – Lt. Grorher (roll the “r”s)  
Asst. Flight Dir. – 2nd Lt. Leonarda Marks  
Navigator Johanna Imex  
Navigator Auqa’rh’lth (A-ka-ruh-ulth)  
Ensign Chelna Zusa  
Chief Flight Specialist Thyssi zh’Qaoleq (last name rhymes with Chocolate)  
Flight Specialist Dih Terri  
Flight Specialist Winnifreid Salazaar  
Flight Specialist Jennifer Hopper  
.  
Director of Ground Operations – Lt. Tolon Reeves  
Asst. Ground Ops Dir. – 2nd Lt. Eykirros Jones (nickname is Ike Jones)  
Investigator Buttans Ngumbo  
Special Agent Anana Lynarr, Trantor Police Intelligence Division (temporary assignment)  
Ensign Yaaal Mac  
Chief Tactical Specialist Rumi Grace  
Tactical Specialist Dasare Eba (rhymes with Cabaret Nina)  
Tactical Specialist Veri Geki  
Tactical Specialist Ranni Neivi  
.  
Director of Engineering – Lt. Sun Ho Hui  
Asst. Engineering Dir. – 2nd Lt. Geoffrey Horatio Alstars  
Midshipman Mula  
Transporter Engineer Dragomut  
Ensign Carlos Datsun  
Chief Flight Engineer Yolanda Thomas  
Flight Engineer Thomas Hobbs  
Flight Engineer Tomos  
Flight Engineer Kerry Gibbon 


	142. Episode 28.2 - The Covenant: King Prometheus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> King Prometheus of the Borg broadcasts a cartoon throughout the Alpha Quadrant...
> 
> _The picture changed to a cartoon caricature of a face known in Star Fleet to many as Doctor Robert but to the people who really knew him and had served with him on the U.S.S. Voyager, he was simply “The Doctor.”_
> 
> _“Hello. I am King Prometheus of the borg..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Yes - this scene is totally bonkers. But then, King Prometheus is totally bonkers...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 28: The Covenant  
Scene 2: King Prometheus

28.2  
King Prometheus

“PLEASE STAND BY FOR THE FOLLOWING IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT”

For several months, the entire Alpha Quadrant and a significant portion of the Beta Quadrant had been embroiled in a war among the three great powers – the United Federation of Planets, the Romulan Star Empire and the Klingon Empire. But someone suddenly hit the pause button. Throughout the Alpha Quadrant and the war torn parts of the Beta Quadrant, ships were landing or establishing stable orbits. Rescue missions were allowed to go forward, but all fighting was simply stopped. Even ground forces found themselves unable to initiate combat, even if they were armed only with hand-to-hand weapons.  
Smaller civil wars and other wars throughout the Alpha Quadrant were similarly stopped. Electronic weapons stopped working. Projectile weapons and hand-to-hand combat were prevented by the projection of shielding between combatants.  
On so-called primitive worlds, the so-called innocents – pre-warp populations who had developed electronic communication but who were as yet unaware of the vast space-bound populations of intelligent beings all around them – were receiving the same message on every radio frequency and every screen. The same message that was on every subspace frequency and every video monitor of any kind throughout the Alpha Quadrant, presented in every local language as needed – the message to stand by for an important announcement.

Then a silly jingle started – introducing a cartoon. These cartoons were specific to their audiences. People on Earth, Vulcan, QonoS, Saketh and Bajor saw a cartoon figure of a humanoid biped walking. On Andoria and on the viewscreens of the Andorian Imperial Guard ships, these cartoon figures sported antennae. On other viewscreens, the walking figure more closely resembled a bird or had four legs in addition to two arms – depending on the physiology of the predominant viewership. This cartoon figure was accompanied by silly music and a cheerful, comforting voice speaking in the appropriate language depending on the audience that was receiving:

“Hi there! This is you.” A second figure appeared on the screen. “And this is your friend or your neighbor.” Dozens more walking figures appeared. “And these are all the people you know who are alive today – your family, your tribe, everyone you know.”   
Those who were on planets saw the figures grow small and then depicted as standing on a ball. Those in ships saw the figures grow small, then depicted as if they were being viewed through the window of a spaceship. They heard: “And this is your planet. And this is your spaceship. This is your home.”  
The cartoon planets and spaceships grew small. Far underneath these tiny ships and planets wiggled fat, dark squiggly lines. “And these are gamma waves. Oh no! The gamma waves are getting close to your home! What ever will happen when they get there?”  
The cartoons zoomed back in to show planets and spaceships with the dark squiggly lines coming up through them. As soon as the dark squiggly lines touched the walking figures, the cartoon people stiffened, then fell down. “Oh no!” burbled the narrator. “Guess what? Gamma radiation is deadly to all forms of life. So when those nasty gamma waves hit your planet or your ship – your home – everyone will die instantly.”  
The cartoons then showed a sequence of silly walking figures falling down and bodies piling up. “You will die!” the narrator continued in a chirrupy voice. “Your family will die! Everyone you have ever known will die! All the other life on your world, on your ship, your home, will die too. Oh those terrible, terrible gamma waves! They’re going to kill everyone and everything. Not just on your home…”  
The cartoon again expanded to show a large number of planets and ships being intersected by dark green squiggly lines. “Not just your world, but every world everywhere in this part of the galaxy. What, oh whatever can we do?”

The picture changed to a cartoon caricature of a face known in Star Fleet to many as Doctor Robert but to the people who really knew him and had served with him on the U.S.S. Voyager, he was simply “The Doctor.”

“Hello. I am King Prometheus of the borg. A few million years ago, the borg were created to protect life in this galaxy from those pesky gamma waves.” The cartoon caricatures of the borg were far less frightening to look at than the actual thing. In cartoon form, they were quite silly and, actually, kind of cute.  
“The borg set about creating an enormous machine – a gigantic shield between you and those terrible, terrible gamma waves – Hooray for the borg!!!” Screens throughout the Federation, the Romulan and Klingon empires and everywhere else in the Alpha Quadrant now depicted cute, silly, heroic cartoon borg drones building a gigantic cartoon machine which in turn was stopping the cartoon gamma waves.

The picture changed again, to show confused borg wandering away from the machine. “But at some point along the way the borg forgot what they were doing and went off and did something else. They did some mean and scary things that they are not proud of…” The cartoon showed the machine falling apart and gamma waves passing through it. “And the machine, without anyone to take care of it, gradually fell apart and started letting those nasty gamma waves through. Which brings us back to you and all your friends on your ship, your planet, your home, who are going to die the moment those dastardly gamma waves arrive.”  
The caricature of the Doctor’s smiling face returned to the screen. “But I have good news! We have found the borg, reminded them of their original purpose and we have brought them home to repair the Hulk and to save you and your home from those nasty gamma waves. Hooray for the borg!” The cartoon word ‘HOORAY!’ exploded into confetti and fireworks along with cartoon explosion, popping, and noisemaker sounds. 

“But there is one, teensy little problem…” The caricature of King Prometheus returned to the screen - now a full body view that revealed the Doctor was wearing simple, unadorned black borg armor. “There just aren’t enough borg left to do the job. That’s where you come in! Over the next year, on your planet or on your ship, you will be given the opportunity to join the borg and help save the lives of everyone you know! Isn’t that wonderful?? We will establish a lottery and one in every five of those in the prime age category for your species will be brought into the collective. You will learn how to communicate and live as a member of the collective.” Gradually, as he was speaking, the caricature of the Doctor resolved into the actual, living image of the former Emergency Medical Hologram for the U.S.S. Voyager.  
“After a mere 20 years of service, you will be returned home and as an added bonus, any and all illnesses you may be suffering from will be cured. Furthermore, you will not age during your 20 years of service – so you will return home physically no older than you were when you left.   
“This is the covenant I, King Prometheus of the borg, make with you for your service. You will be allowed to keep or leave behind as many of your memories of being borg as you prefer. We also take volunteers of any age, so if you are suffering from an intractable illness, I implore you to volunteer and after your 20 years of service you will be returned to your home, cured! Hooray! You will get to help the borg save the galaxy and in return, your life will be made better too!”

“The Lottery will begin within the next three months. One in every five of you in the appropriate age category will be called to service, so make your lives ready for a prolonged absence. And now, we have a special message from the Chancellor of the Klingon Empire, Greta Leifsdottor!”

The change to Greta was shocking. Her long, blonde hair was gone. She was now bald, making her forehead and skull ridges – the heritage from her klingon grandfather – much more evident. Her once porcelain skin now had a greenish pallor and tubes were connected to her face and her chest. Her right arm had been replaced with a prosthetic that included a large number of tools. Her left eye had been replaced with some sort of optic device. Her muted silver klingon armor had been replaced with black borg armor. But she still stood tall and proudly held the sword of QeyliS. She stepped forward to stand next to King Prometheus on what was clearly an interior deck of a borg cube. At about 6’8”, she towered over the new borg king.  
“It would bring the greatest dishonor to the entire Klingon Empire if any klingon were to need to be drafted by a lottery. Here is the greatest enemy of the klingon people – not the Federation. Not the romulans. Not the borg. But this simple brutal force of nature that is coming to kill us all. If you are a true warrior, step forth. We will establish our own lottery. The klingon lottery will not determine who will come with me to fight. The klingon lottery will determine who must stay behind to keep the home fires burning.”  
“As it has always been with our people – it is an honor to be left behind only if you have been chosen to stay behind. Show me your hearts, my warriors. Show the humans and the romulans, the vulcans and the ferengi what it means to face your greatest fear. Show them what true courage is. Follow me to our greatest destiny so that the others – the human, the bajoran, the cardassian and the romulan can see your courage. Inspire them to face their own fears and volunteer to face this threat at our side, where they belong. I implore you, let so many of our people serve voluntarily that not one klingon will ever need to be drafted into service. This is why the sword of QeyliS has come to me – so that in this hour you, my legendary warriors, will find the true fire in your hearts and come to share this heroic task with me! Victory is our covenant! Qapla’!”

28.2


	143. Episode 28.3 - The Covenant: Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Dolphins and the Smiths - now joined as one family - reunite at the Smith family's ancestral home on Kauai Island, Hawaii..
> 
> _Starlight Dolphin took a long breath and looked around at the stunning blood-orange sand, the ruby and emerald mountains of Kauai Island, the deep blue Pacific. “I love this place,” she said softly. “And I love all of you. But to save my family, I have to leave my family...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> This scene takes place in the weeks immediately following King Prometheus' cartoon broadcast and the end of the Klingon War..  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 28: The Covenant  
Scene 3: Starlight

28.3  
Starlight

“Couldn’t you just… find some nice guy and get yourself knocked up?” Kenny Dolphin tried to put on a brave face, but he was fresh out of brave faces and the best he could manage at the moment was an overly protective, worried-father face. Still, that was far better than letting his true feelings show. Especially with his new grandson in his arms. Holding that baby had made him completely re-think all his worries about his daughters getting pregnant. 

A freshly painted gazebo protected him and baby George from the sweltering mid-day Hawaiian sun. George’s parents, only recently wed – Vuk Smith and River Dolphin – were also sheltering in this gazebo, along with other family members. Grandpa Kenny was unconsciously bouncing baby George ever so slightly, which, along with the distant rumble of the surf and the even more distant cry of seagulls, had the baby in a happy, almost mesmerized, relaxed state. The baby had very dark skin like his Hawaiian grandfather, slightly pointed ears like his half-vulcan father, but somehow he had inherited his mother’s bright crystal-blue eyes.

Starlight Dolphin was laughing lightly. “It will be all right, Dad. I spent this last year really traveling. You remember our sailing trip on Bajor?”  
Dolphin almost unconsciously handed George to the baby’s other grandfather and namesake, Dr. George Smith, who was sitting next to him.  
“Of course I remember,” Dolphin said. “It’s the most time I’ve spent with you since you were seven years old.”  
“Well, on our way back to Earth, we stopped for a few nights in the 110 Piscium system,” said Starlight. “While I was on Pillo, the Great Mushroom gave me a dream. I knew this day would come and I knew I had to find the answer for you.”  
“What answer?” asked Kenny. “The answer to what question?”  
“Is it worth it?” said Starlight. “Dad, I have crawled through the antique library at the Sanctuary of the Waterbirds on Cophus II. I listened to the waterbirds singing – and the vulcans singing with them. I swam with the tetrasquids of Zephria IV and learned four dimensional wave painting from them. I spent a week inside the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant with the nuns from the Bajoran temple on Deep Space 9, praying to the prophets. And the prophets spoke to me and showed me visions of what it will be like for the borg working on the Hulk – and they gave me messages to bring to the borg. Messages of hope. I sailed to the dark red spot on Ocean and I’ve sailed around the Earth. Twice. And I went with an expedition to observe the innocents on Dalsid V. And then to map the cloud layers of Dalsid III, where they have found life very similar to the Venusian life that was destroyed in the Venus Incident. And that is just the beginning of the wonders I’ve seen. So the answer is yes… Yes, it is very much worth it.”  
“But… Twenty years… I’ll be 75 when you come back…” said Kenny. He was unable to keep the sound of hurtling loss from his voice.  
“King Prometheus has offered a lot of incentives for those who volunteer in the first year of the lottery,” said Starlight. “I get to choose two people to exempt from the lottery. I have chosen River and T’Lon. And you can come visit me. I will get a week vacation every year. I will be a drone, but it will still be me.” 

Starlight Dolphin took a long breath and looked around at the stunning blood-orange sand, the ruby and emerald mountains of Kauai Island, the deep blue Pacific. “I love this place,” she said softly. “And I love all of you. But to save my family, I have to leave my family...”

The group fell silent. Except for baby George Dolphin, who was now making gurgling noises in the arms of his father, Vuk Smith. Kenny Dolphin felt T’Lon’s hand on his shoulder. Old Dr. George Smith was handing out cold bottles of Mexican beer – Corona.  
Kenny Dolphin took a long, deep breath, then took a long drink of cold Mexican beer. It was delicious – sweet – almost citrus – highly carbonated – the champaign of beers.

“Think of it this way, Kenny,” said old Dr. George, “You’re not losing a daughter. You’re gaining 137 billion borg…”

And about a half-pint of cold, highly carbonated Mexican beer came spewing out of Kenny’s mouth and nose as he coughed and laughed helplessly.

28.3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: George Dolphin  
> Human Ethnicity: Hawaiian, German American  
> Additional Species: Vulcan  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Kauai Island, Hawaii, Earth   
> Introduced: Episode 28.3  
> Age when introduced: 5 months  
> Role: Son of River Dolphin and Vuk Smith, Grandson to Kenny Dolphin


	144. Episode 28.4 - The Covenant: Invoice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Johnny Canada, Deputy Director of Offworld Activities for the Trantor Police Intelligence Division (and a member of Section 31) is summoned in a dream by Section 31 Director, Chief Justice Julian Bashir...
> 
>  _Bashir nodded grimly. "...But that's only the start of it. In 20 years when the first humans and bajorans, romulans, klingons, ferengi and others are returned after 20 years of being borg drones, people will finally begin to understand just how terrible the price of saving all of the life in the Alpha Quadrant will be..."_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Frank S. Herbert's DUNE series was a huge influence for me with his concept of the "terrible price" - something about that rings true not in a mystical way, but as a simple result of our biology driven by the evolutionary arms race.
> 
> In the Star Trek Hunter mythos, Slade hand picked Julian Bashir to be his successor because of three qualities that Slade also had before joining Section 31 - genius, a strong moral code, and a fascination with espionage. Julian despised Slade for his ends-justify-the-means morality. And went on to make decisions as Section 31 Director that would make Slade look like Ghandi by comparison...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 28: The Covenant  
Scene 4: Invoice

28.4  
Invoice

“Don’t be alarmed, Johnny, this is not an attack,” said Julian Bashir. “We’re just here to tie up a few loose ends and say our farewells.”  
Johnny Canada found himself in the familiar dreamscape of the overstuffed armchair in the interview room Emory Ivonovic had built years ago to launch his podcast, Subspace Radio Ivonovic. Canada was seated on the far left. Chief Justice Julian Bashir was seated next to him. On the far right was a small, attractive elderly woman with blonde hair whom Canada recognized instantly - Admiral Alynna Nechayev, for the past decade the Director of Star Fleet Intelligence. Between Bashir and Nechayev sat Shiva. But her hair was different. Now nearly all black again, it was cut short and styled rather boyishly, revealing both the slightly pointed ears from her vulcan ancestry and the light spotting along the sides of her neck from her trill ancestry – her worry lines had largely vanished – an astoundingly beautiful old woman - the former matriarch of a large Chinese family. Canada looked at her with no small amount of trepidation.

“I am not Shiva anymore. But I don’t think I can be Minerva Irons again, either. I haven’t decided on a new name, but I think I’m going to avoid mythological names. Maybe a nature name, like Song* or Yue**.”  
“Tung-Mei?” suggested Bashir.  
“Oooh – the winter plum. I like that. I am Shiva no longer. My name is now Tung-Mei.***” The newly named Tung-Mei, formerly Shiva, formerly Minerva Irons, stretched. “By spreading your new religion of Shiva the Creator, Shiva the Restorer, you have made my job so much easier. Shiva the Devourer can now be retired. And I am so ready to retire. Being Shiva gave me a new lease on life. But now it is time to leave him behind. I leave Saketh and its people in your very capable hands,” said Tung-Mei.  
“And King Prometheus has made our job so much easier,” said Bashir. A definite change could be seen, Julian Bashir looked happier and far more relaxed than Canada had ever seen him. “I thought Section 31 would consume my life and that my last job – and your first job – would be to see to the drafting of our people into the borg. You will still need to police that, but King Prometheus and Chancellor Greta have made that so much easier for us - at least the beginning of it. Which gives me the opportunity to do something that very few directors of Section 31 have ever been able to do.”  
“And what would that be?” Canada asked.  
“Retire. Tung-Mei is taking me in her ship, The Shadow of Death, to the Gamma Quadrant. I sent Jodiah and Ezri there some time ago. There is a planet near the galactic rim. We established a colony a few years back – well off the beaten trail – outside of the Dominion. There are about 18,000 refugees there – trill, romulans, humans, cardassians, bajorans and several who are native to the Gamma Quadrant. So I am leaving Section 31 in your hands now. You will find everything has been moved to your office in Trantor. The cloak and dagger are officially yours.”  
“Why me?” Canada asked.  
Bashir smiled. “Because you, Johnny, will lose sleep over every decision you will be called on to make. It’s not great for your complexion and you can turn into a bit of an anti-social ogre. But that’s what makes you the only kind of person who is fit for the job…”  
"Which means you will be working more closely with me," said Admiral Nechayev. "We've gotten along so well in the past..."  
"Meaning I've given you intelligence and you buried it." Johnny's trademark friendly smile was more than a little brittle.  
"Oh no, Johnny," said Nechayev, her smile far more genuine. "I made good use of it. You have been an invaluable source of information. It made the takeover of Vulcan so much easier. Almost bloodless.”  
"Did you just admit to betraying the Federation?" Canada was incredulous, but at the same time well aware that there were many people who had always suspected Nechayev of treason - or would prefer to. Star Fleet Intelligence had always been rather shadowy and mistrusted by the rest of the organization.  
It was Julian Bashir who responded. ”The luxury of political loyalty was destroyed the moment Minerva, er, Tung Mei that is, confirmed what I had learned about the Dead Zone," said Bashir. "And we had to make some rather nasty things happen just to make that mission possible."  
"There could be no Federation if the Alpha Quadrant were sterilized," Nechayev added. "We realized that our highest priority was not the survival of the Federation, but the preservation of life within the Alpha Quadrant. And the only way that could possibly happen was to surrender a fifth of our population to become borg. The people of the Federation would never accept that - we had to bring the Federation to the brink of disaster both from internal strife and war with the Klingon Empire. And it was critical to split the Romulan Star Empire in half..."  
"Millions have been killed in these wars, more than a million have been sacrificed on Saketh alone between the war and that nasty religion Shiva - er - that is Tung-Mei started," Bashir continued.   
"I hate to admit that I actually quite enjoyed being Shiva the Devourer," said Tung-Mei. "But I only unleashed that evil because the people of Saketh would have fought to the death to prevent their world from being transplanted - even knowing their grandchildren would be exterminated by gamma radiation. Now, they will acquiesce - oh there will still be fighting and bloodshed over it, but it's your job now to save Saketh and its people. In spite of themselves."  
Bashir smiled grimly. "I sacrificed millions of lives to save billions of lives. Imagne the current situation without the Klingon War… Instead of a rescue from a hopeless war, the arrival of the borg would have been received as more borg aggression. No one would have been willing to listen to stories about gamma waves. We had to take some rather dreadful actions to make sure people would be receptive. Now Venus - that was a wrench..." 

Canada was shocked to his core. "You destroyed Venus???" 

Bashir smiled grimly. "You give me too much credit… And not enough. Section 31 has been preventing such outrages for more than a century. It was faction of Earth First that destroyed Venus. We could have stopped it. We didn't stop it. It was the only way to bring home to people what we're facing. Without that recent memory of what sudden, total annihilation looks like, and right next door, humanity would never accept giving one in every five of their children to become borg - even if only for 20 years. But that's only the start of it. In 20 years when the first humans and bajorans, romulans, klingons, ferengi and others are returned after 20 years of being borg drones, people will finally begin to understand just how terrible the price of saving all of the life in the Alpha Quadrant will be... Depression, suicide, families ripped apart... Millions of them will not survive. Billions of them will survive but will never recover. And once people realize the true price that is being demanded of them, they will rebel. There will be bloody civil war throughout the Alpha Quadrant for centuries. And you, Johnny, you will have to find a way to make sure that is a war they can never win."  
"To create a future for life in the Alpha Quadrant, billions will lose their lives," said Nechayev. “My youngest son has volunteered, as has one of my granddaughters. They might never come back and if they do, they might never recover from the experience of being borg drones. No one ever wants to contemplate such a price. And it will be your job to extract it - to make sure that price is paid."  
"I sacrificed millions to save billions," Bashir repeated. "You will have to sacrifice billions to save trillions. This task cannot wait 4,000 years. It cannot wait a single day. Not if we are to save life in this part of the galaxy from complete extermination. Somebody has to make the tough choices, Johnny. I can't say I envy you…"  
  


_* Song – Chinese Feminine Name: Pine Tree_

_** Yue – Chinese Feminine Name: Moon_

_***Tung-Mei – Chinese Feminine Name: Winter-Plums_

28.4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Character: Admiral Alynna Nechayev  
> Human Ethnicity: Russian  
> Additional Species: N/A  
> Hometown/Homeworld: Ganymede 1, Ganymede Colony  
> Introduced: Episode 28.4  
> Age when introduced: 76  
> Role: Director of Star Fleet Intelligence, Deputy Director of Section 31


	145. Episode 28.5 - The Covenant: New Assignments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Captain Kenneth Dolphin and Lieutenant T'Lon are both leaving the U.S.S. Hunter...
> 
>  _“Where will you go?” Kenny asked._  
>  _“My commission expires at the end of this month and I have sufficient vacation accrued to take terminal leave,” T'Lon responded._  
>  _“I am not returning the Hunter either,” said Kenny. “I’m being reassigned from the Office of Judge Advocate General. They’re returning me to Space Command. They’re giving me an Andromeda class ship...”_  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> Below I am including a list of scenes that carry the relationship among Kenny, T'Lon and Red.
> 
> There are 2 more posts after this one and this rather large story will be concluded... Thanks for staying with me!!  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 28: The Covenant  
Scene 5: New Assignments  
  


28.5  
New Assignments

Kenny Dolphin awoke in a tent on the beach. T’Lon was more or less twined around him. 

“I am not returning to the U.S.S. Hunter,” she said. It took a moment for them to reconfigure themselves for conversation.  
“Where will you go?” Kenny asked.  
“My commission expires at the end of this month and I have sufficient vacation accrued to take terminal leave.”  
“I am not returning the Hunter either,” said Kenny. “I’m being reassigned from the Office of Judge Advocate General. They’re returning me to Space Command. They’re giving me an Andromeda class ship.”  
“Not the U.S.S. Milky Way? That would be awkward, serving under Rear Admiral Red…” T’Lon pushed Kenny over, climbed on top of him.  
“It would be now,” he replied. “She’s committed to the polyamorous lifestyle. I’m a bit too much of a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal to manage that – at least not at close quarters. So what do you plan to do in your post-Star Fleet life?” He idly traced the scar on her right cheek, what remained of the top of her right earlobe. She closed her eyes, savoring the light caress.  
“You asked me some time ago why I never got my battle scars repaired,” T’Lon said. “It’s because they fascinate you. And I like that.” She took a deep breath, opened her eyes. Deep wells of soft brown. “It seems T’Lok’s katra is finally at peace within you. And within me… So are you ready to go from a crew of 35 to commanding a starship with more than 6,000 people onboard?”  
“Admiral Chekov seems to think so,” said Kenny. He caressed T’Lon’s back, admiring her perfect musculature. He had never seen anyone with such perfectly defined muscles – lean and limber – but smooth, protected by a healthy layer of subcutaneous fat – the body of a surfer.  
“Would you happen to have an opening for a civilian contractor to provide physical fitness training and evaluation for those 6,000 people? I do have a Ph.D. in physical education…”  
“I happen to know, for a fact, that I do,” Kenny responded. “Brand new ship. Brand new crew. And a plum assignment – actual exploration – a five year mission to map uncharted areas in the Alpha Quadrant, specifically brown and red dwarf systems. To seek out new life and new civilizations…”  
“Which ship?” T’Lon asked.  
“The only Andromeda class ship that will not be named after a galaxy,” said Kenny. “N.C.C. 1701… G.”  
T’Lon’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “The U.S.S. Enterprise? Now there’s a legacy to be saddled with…”  
“Archer, April, Pike, Kirk, Zarlo, Decker, Spock, Harriman, Bairnson*, George, Sulu, Johnson, Garrett, Castillo, Halloway, Picard, Riker, Jellico, Bateson, LaForge, T’May…” Kenny recited.

“Dolphin,” T’Lon concluded. “So, Captain Kenneth Dolphin of the U.S.S. Enterprise…” She pushed his shoulders back into the blanket and straddled him, capturing him. Her long auburn hair spilled about his face, framing her face above his.  
Kenny Dolphin caught his breath - then: “I don’t understand you… You were the one arranging all those dates for me with Red… Even last week…”  
T’Lon squeezed gently, causing Kenny to make an indistinct noise… “You fell in love with T’Lok the moment you first saw her.”  
There was no point in trying to lie to a powerful telepath. “She was the most beautiful thing I ever saw,” Kenny said. “Until you smiled…”  
“I never smiled while T’Lok was alive. After she died… you and I both inherited her katra - her living spirit… I incorporated the parts I loved about her into my own personality. T’Lok understood pleasure… Especially the intense pleasure of delayed gratification… Red reminded you of me.”  
“There’s a… She does look a little like you,” said Kenny, “but the resemblance ends there…”  
“She whetted your desire for me. But she could never satisfy it…”  
“So all that - you pushing me into her arms… That was about delayed gratification?”  
T’Lon moved her head slightly, caressing Kenny’s face with her hair. “In part… The time wasn’t right for us. First there was all the confusion with T’Lok’s katra - how having what was left of her in your head made you uncomfortable being with me. Then there was your ambition… We really couldn’t be together while I was under your command.”  
“So you parked me with Red?” Dolphin shook his head slightly, made an amused noise. “And now you’re retrieving me from her?”  
T’Lon touched Kenny’s nose with hers. Kissed his lips gently. “It would be illogical to think I could take you back from Admiral Red. You never belonged to her any more than you belong to me. You have only ever belonged to yourself. Admiral Red has several lovers - male, female, other genders you are less familiar with. But you are her favorite and it is very important for you to maintain your relationship with her.”  
Kenny closed his eyes, laid his head back, laughed slightly. “All right, now you have me completely confused. How could that possibly be so important?” He opened his eyes, looked up at her. “And how do you know I’m her favorite?”

“Because she’s carrying your child…”

Kenny’s eyes suddenly opened wide. T’Lon relaxed on top of him. She nestled her face next to his - her cheek soft against his - her hair a silky veil across his face - just as it had been their first time together all those years ago… Her lips next to his ear… Her slightest whisper caused him to make that noise again…

“And so am I…”

 _*The list of Captains of the U.S.S. Enterprise comes from Memory Beta. I added Captain Jack Bairnson to promote fan fiction_ _The Enterprise-B Chronicles_ _by D. Dietz._

28.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Kenny, T'Lon, Red love triangle is developed through the following scenes:
> 
> Episode 2: The Colony of New Hope, Scene 12: First Command  
> Episode 3: Breakfast Serial, Scene 5: Surfing  
> Episode 3: Breakfast Serial, Scene 9: Surf Lesson  
> Episode 3: Breakfast Serial, Scene 10: Life is a Beach  
> Episode 4: Run To Earth, Scene 2: Dolphin and T’Lon  
> Episode 4: Run To Earth, Scene 4: The Touch  
> Episode 4: Run To Earth, Scene 13: Pon Farr  
> Episode 5: The Fires of Pon Farr, Scene 1: Kauai Island, Hawaii; Providence, Rhode Island  
> Episode 5: The Fires of Pon Farr, Scene 7: Malloriah Uhr  
> Episode 6: BK2, Scene 10: The Ghost of T’Lon  
> Episode 7: The Great Mushroom, Scene 1: Nightmares  
> Episode 7: The Great Mushroom, Scene 5: Temple on Mt. Seleya  
> Episode 7: The Great Mushroom, Scene 7: They’re Playing Our Song  
> Episode 11: Intersections and Reunions, Scene 11: The Smith Estate, Kauai Island, Hawaii  
> Episode 12: Prisoner in the Ice Castle, Scene 7: Red Hot  
> Episode 12: Prisoner in the Ice Castle, Scene 11: Battle Over Rings  
> Episode 12: Prisoner in the Ice Castle, Scene 18: Annual Performance Evaluation  
> Episode 13: The 15,000 Cities of Cun Ling, Scene 2: Numinor  
> Episode 14: When Death Comes, Scene 9: Messages From The Other Side  
> Episode 17: Slavers, Scene 4: Battle Scars  
> Episode 22: Sacrifice, Scene 10: Buzz Conference  
> Episode 22: Sacrifice, Scene 12: Keep Your Friends Close  
> Episode 24: A Trillian Problem, Scene 13: The Tears of a Clown  
> Episode 24: A Trillian Problem, Scene 15: Red, Flowers and Wine  
> .


	146. Episode 28.7 - The Covenant: The Captain of the U.S.S. Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> The Captain of the U.S.S. Hunter has a big job to do.  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> A Coda.
> 
> There is one more post, which I will put up tomorrow - Thank you for reading!!  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Episode 28: The Covenant  
Scene 7: The Captain of the U.S.S. Hunter

28.7  
The Captain of the U.S.S. Hunter

The captain of the U.S.S. Hunter settled into the captain’s chair. Like his predecessors, he had quickly learned that he wouldn’t get to spend much time in that chair and would have to leave what he considered the fun part of the job largely to his first and second officers and his extremely furry Director of Flight Operations – Lt. Grorher.   
But today was special. His first officer, Commander Gaia Gamor, was seated at the navigation station. His second officer, Lt. Commander Moon Sun Salek, stood behind the tactical/communication station. Flight Ops Director Grorher was at the pilot station. There would never be another moment like this.  
Hunter’s captain ran a dark blue hand over his hairless, dark blue scalp, then squeezed the back of his neck. A powerfully built Italian admiral was displayed on the viewscreen.

“U.S.S. Hunter, this is Admiral Urban Yasutake, Director of the Office of Judge Advocate General. I assume you have reviewed and understood your orders?”  
“Admiral Yasutake, this is the U.S.S. Hunter, Napoleon Boles commanding. We have and it looks like we have our work cut out for us.”  
“The JAG fleet is going to be busier than ever in the wake of the war and now with all the vacancies caused by the lottery. You have a long list of pirates to bring in. Good Hunting, Captain Boles. Yasutake out.”  
“Thank you sir. Hunter out,” said Captain Boles. The Admiral’s image vanished from the screen. “Commander Gamor – course laid in?”  
“Aye Captain,” came the response from the first officer.  
“Lieutenant Commander Moon, are we cleared from Starbase Two?”  
“We have the all clear, Captain.”  
“Lieutenant Grorher, take us to warp 12… Engage!”  
  


28.7


	147. Afterword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> .  
> I really hope you enjoyed the last few scenes of Star Trek Hunter. I know the scene I posted on Friday (chapter 127) might seem a little on the racy side...  
> .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> This is the final post for Star Trek Hunter.
> 
> for now...  
> .

**Star Trek Hunter  
** Afterword

Afterword

There are far more stories to tell in the Star Trek Hunter universe. About 3 months elapse between episodes 26 and 27 and Episode 27 takes place over a 2-3 month period.  
But I have told the big story I wanted to tell - petty wars in the face of impending environmental disaster. The origin and return of the borg. The development of The Doctor from comic relief to become King of the Borg, the most powerful creature in the galaxy. Kenny Dolphin being reunited and reconciled with his daughters. The fall of Minerva Irons, the magnificent deaths of David Pepper and Krull, and most importantly, the redemption and rise of Emory Ivonovic.

I’m not really certain why I wanted to write fan fiction - Star Trek Hunter is my first. As a lifelong Trek fan, I tried to stay as true to cannon as possible, but there are a number of issues (most significantly breaking the warp 10 barrier) where I really set part of the newer cannon aside.  
Star Trek Hunter gets into environmental issues, racism and comes down with a fairly heavy dose of ethics and other philosophy. All of these things are motivational to me, but none of them explain why I whipped myself into writing a story in excess of 370,000 words over the space of a single year - that’s the length of three rather long novels.

I have a deep love of literature and particularly for a clever turn of phrase, so I put a lot of effort into each sentence, trying to describe each scene in detail, create good and realistic feeling dialogue and worked for a humorous turn of phrase as often as possible.

But I think what really drove me was a series of visual and visceral moments I had in my head that I wanted to earn and paint in detailed prose:

  * ****Commander David Pepper and Krull facing off, silhouetted in front of an angry red sun like something from a samurai painting…
  * ****Justice Minerva Irons calling court to session with a squawking gavel made of mushroom…
  * ****Kenny Dolphin bluffing an Andorian Imperial Guard cruiser out of the sky of its own homemoon…
  * ****Emory Ivonovic crying as he carries the naked, dead, mutilated body of Joey Chin out of th’Istel…
  * ****Four versions of Wesley Crusher getting in each other’s way in the U.S.S. Hunter’s engine room…
  * ****T’Lon gently seducing Kenny Dolphin at the outset of her Pon Farr and throughout the story…
  * ****Malloriah Uhr getting it on with the U.S.S. Hunter’s holographic interactive avatar - to silly 1970’s porno music…
  * ****Investigator Shran shooting up a seedy bar like something out of an andorian western…
  * ****Tauk giving his body to be consumed by Mlady in an act of self sacrifice…
  * ****Hundreds of dead hybrid children floating in the Hudson River…
  * ****Thousands of trill soldiers being systematically and quietly taken prisoner in the fog…
  * ****People being hunted by shadowhounds and sporthogs…
  * ****The Doctor taking the form of a Tyrannosaurus Rex and uttering a mighty Squawk…



Several other iconic, Star Trek like scenes…

So while there is a big story and big issues, I think I really wrote this story for those iconic moments. A series of tableaus that I wanted to bring to life. Moments painted with words.

Amazing that a series of word paintings is what was driving me - but I really think that was it.

Please let me know if you would like to see more stories from the Star Trek Hunter universe.

And THANK YOU so much for reading!! 

Thanks!!rbs


	148. NEW EPISODES!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Episodes have been added. See below.

**NOTE:** In response to reader questions, comments, criticism and requests, I have added several new scenes. 

There is a thing called the Curse of Knowledge. It is every writer's worst enemy. The writer knows so much more about the story than is put down for the reader. I was informed that there were a few scenes that were happening off-screen (so to speak) that I needed to put on-screen.

As I am publishing this story on other sites, I am keeping it consistent across all platforms by adding the new scenes as they are created.

Three new scenes have been added to Year 3 - Kingdom Come:

**Episode 26.20: Rain Over Rising Sun - Napoleon (Chapter 116)**

**Episode 27.4: Sword of Destiny - lIH* (Chapter 123)** _*lIH: tlhingn Hol: commence_

 **Episode 27.5: Sword of Destiny - bISolnISbe'taH* (Chapter 124)** _*bISolnISbe'taH: tlhingn Hol: beware_  
  
 **Episode 27.6: Sword of Destiny - vub* (Chapter 125)** _*vub: tlhingn Hol: captive_  
  
 **Episode 27.9: Sword of Destiny - T'May* (Chapter 128)** _*t'may: tlhingn Hol: battle_  
  
 **Episode 27.15: Sword of Destiny - Qo'noS luchenmoH* (Chapter 134)** _*Qo'noS luchenmoH: tlhingn Hol: the Gods_  
  
 **Episode 27.16: Sword of Destiny - puv* (Chapter 135)** _*puv: tlhingn Hol: flying_  
  
 **Episode 27.17: Sword of Destiny - 'ul* (Chapter 136)** _*'ul: tlhingn Hol: electricity_

 **Episode 27.18: Sword of Destiny - 'Iw* (Chapter 137)** _*'Iw: tlhingn Hol: blood_

Four more will be added soon - 

**Episode 27.19: Sword of Destiny - chal* (this will become Chapter 138 when published)** _*chal: tlhingn Hol: flowers_

 **Episode 27.18: Sword of Destiny - jolpat* (this will become Chapter 139 when published)** _*jolpat: tlhingn Hol: transporter_

**Episode 28.6: The Covenant - Same As It Ever Was (this will become Chapter 148 when published)**

**Episode 28.8: The Covenant - Shall I Brush Your Teeth For You? (this will become Chapter 150 when published)**

Three new scenes have also been added to Year 2 - The Destroyer of Worlds:  
  
 **Episode 11.14: Intersections and Reunions - The C.D.S. Milithra (chapter 17)**

**Episode 16.4: Slavers - The Needs of the Many (chapter 82)**

**Episode 19.5: The Ivonovic Commission - Stroke of Luck (chapter 128)**

I know it may seem strange to publish middle chapters when the end of the story has been published. I apologize for any confusion or inconvenience.

This story's listing on An Archive of Our Own is it's primary location and the one I drive readership to through my blog and Facebook posts.

Thanks!! rbs


End file.
